As If We Never Said Goodbye
by D. O. Parker
Summary: *COMPLETE!* Sequel to "Do You Think Of Me?" Extremely romantic, extremely sad...If you liked the prequel, you're going to love this. Get your Kleenex out!...R/R!
1. Prologue

A/N: The much-awaited sequel to the heartbreaking fanfic, DO YOU THINK ABOUT ME? If you guys haven't read it yet, you're missing out on a lot (whoo! Hot air coming through!). Anyway, you can still understand this story even if you haven't read the prequel, but it's so much better to read that first so you'll get a feel of what this story is going to be like. Besides, I want you to shed a tear or two over my first fic before you cry over this one. *sigh*

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter characters.

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As If We Never Said Goodbye

PROLOGUE

__

Will you think of me, Harry?

In the past four years, without so much as a word from Hermione, Harry *did* try to forget about her – but found that to be rather impossible. For although she has never tried to owl him, he was aware that Ron received frequent letters from her and told him stories about what she was doing, wherever she was.

Ron wasn't very much of a help in his search for Hermione. He refused to tell him where she was and he was partly hurt that his best friend wouldn't tell him where the love of his life was.

Harry groaned inwardly when he felt Blaise Zabini's tongue slide over his naked chest, licking her path towards a lower destination. Her long, dark hair fell over her face like a satin curtain, brushing sensually against his skin. He had been going out with the former Slytherin for two weeks and three dates. *This* is the third date. And like the other girls whom Harry had invited for a third-date snogging session in his flat, she didn't say no. After all, there's something very – fulfilling – about sleeping with the Boy Who Lived, as well as the superstar Seeker of the Chudley Cannons, who was also drafted to be the starting Seeker for England's National Team for the Quidditch World Cup to be held in the summer.

She paused for a while, raising her head to look up at him while her fingers nimbly and expertly drew his boxers off his lower body.

__

She is quite beautiful, Harry thought, bracing himself when he saw her smile at his erection before dipping her head downward. He closed his eyes and thought of the wonderful, sexual feelings this girl incited in him when Hermione's happy, smiling face materialized in his thoughts.

Like it always did whenever he was with another woman.

Harry stiffened and jumped a little, in complete surprise. That image of Hermione was very familiar – it was the day they had gone to Hogsmeade and entered Goldman's Jewelry Shop to buy the Ring of True Love for Diana. It was right after he had asked Hermione, "Would you help me pick out a ring for Diana?"

She had smiled before saying yes, and Harry noticed something he had not noticed before.

She was smiling, but her eyes were sad.

So sad………that it hurt him to look at her and berated himself for not noticing earlier.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Blaise asked him. She had straightened up in a sitting position, straddling his legs, a look of anxiousness crossing her face.

__

It's not fair to Blaise, Harry. She's here with you when you know you want to be somewhere else………

__

With someone else………

Harry breathed out a sigh and looked at the girl sitting in front of him. "I'm sorry, Blaise. I can't do this."

Her lips frowned and her brows furrowed. "Why not?"

"It just doesn't feel right………"

Blaise smiled seductively. "Well, not yet but we're just getting started."

"I mean it," he said with more force. "It's been fun and all but this thing isn't going to work out between us."

"We haven't even begun, Harry………"

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to lead you on."

"Fine," Blaise cried angrily, standing up and collecting her clothes which were strewn all over the bedroom. She put them on, one piece at a time (Harry thinks she's doing it on purpose, just to make him see what he was missing). Once she was fully dressed, she stalked huffily out of the room without as much as a goodbye.

Harry stood up and proceeded to collect his clothes as well. It was early – 8:35, his clock read. Ron would be back from his training with Puddlemere United in a few hours and decided to leave him a note. The two of them had been sharing a flat since they got out of Hogwarts, owing to the fact that it was cheaper to have a roommate and their place was a suitable location between the Cannons' and Puddlemere's training pitches.

__

Ron,

Just stepped out for a little while. Be back in a few. Pumpkin juice and leftover turkey in the fridge. Bread in the basket. Toaster's busted.

Harry

He reached for his Muggle leather jacket that hung on the coat rack Mrs. Weasley had insisted on getting them as a 'new-flat' present. He really didn't want to Apparate to where he was going, just in case the people he was visiting weren't too keen on having visitors at the moment.

Just then, Pigwidgeon flew through the window and landed on the kitchen counter. It dropped an envelope on the marble and hopped over to the bread basket to pilfer some crumbs. Harry rushed over and eyed the envelope eagerly. On the front, in clear cursive that was so Hermione's, read, 'Ron Weasley.'

Harry smoothed his forefinger over the words, as if it would bring him any closer to her. Like all the other times that Pig had flown in with a letter from Hermione to Ron, Harry was tempted to open it – but thought otherwise. Although Ron feels guilty about not letting Harry know where Hermione was, he also knew that if he opened his private post, Ron's trust in him would be thrown out the window. And he couldn't bear losing Ron as well – especially when he's the person nearest to him that could actually assure him that she is, in fact, all right.

So Harry satisfied himself by just lingering over Hermione's handwriting. He helped Pig get some food before he set out for the Leaky Cauldron.

"Going out again, eh, Mr. Potter?" Tom, the innkeeper of the Leaky Cauldron, asked him jovially.

"Yeah, Tom," Harry replied, his hand poised on the knob. "I wouldn't be out too late but close up if I don't get back in time again. I can always Apparate home."

"I never close when you're out, Mr. Potter," he grinned. "More business for me, then." Harry smiled then mumbled a goodbye before turning the door to the Muggle world.

Harry trudged along the sidewalk, pulling his jacket closer to him as a cold breeze whipped around him. He could see Muggles walking around, some with furrowed brows and angry stares, clutching their portfolios tightly, as if someone was going to steal them. By force of habit, Harry looked out at the corner of his eye for any girl with brown hair, hoping against hope that he'd bump into Hermione, which he never did of course.

He rounded a corner and picked up his pace. The place he was going to wasn't far and he could hardly wait to see the row of houses downtown, all pieced together as if it were a jogsaw puzzle. But he most looked forward to reaching the white house with the red-shingled roof, and a front door that held a small sign saying, 'The Grangers.' Harry could recall the first time he had gone there, fresh out of Hogwarts, looking for Hermione………

*Flashback*

He knocked on the door sharply. People in the street stared at his odd clothes. Who would be wearing a cloak on a balmy spring afternoon? Why was he in a cloak anyhow?

Harry had just come from the graduation rites at Hogwarts. He could hardly sit still, knowing that in a few hours' time he would be on his way back to Muggle London to collect the last of his belongings at the Dursleys' and say goodbye to their maltreatment but most of all, he looked forward to going over to Hermione's house.

The night before, Harry had come to the conclusion that if Ron wasn't going to tell him anything, The Grangers might. All he needed to do was to confess what he felt for Hermione and they just might tell him where she was so he could go after her. All he wished was that she wasn't with………

__

*Stop that, Harry! Of course she's not with that git. She did tell you that she loves you, didn't she?*

Harry held his breath when he heard someone from inside unlock the door. _*Please, let it be Hermione. Please, Please………*_

"Harry?" Hermione's mom asked, opening the door. She scanned his clothes and gave him a small smile. "Congratulations on graduating, dear. Come on in."

Harry smiled graciously and closed the door after her. "Sit down, dear. Anything I can get you? We were just going to have tea."

"Oh, no, thank you, ma'am," Harry replied. "Actually, I would like to ask you if………"

"Who is it, darling?" a man's voice called from the kitchen.

"Harry Potter, dear. Hermione's friend from school." She turned to him again. "What was it that you wanted to say?"

Mr. Granger, a tall man with stern features, loomed over the enclave that separated the living room from the kitchen. Harry had seen him several times over the last seven years, accompanying his daughter in Diagon Alley. He'd never really talked to him or anything, and he wasn't as blatantly fun-loving and curious as Mr. Weasley is. Harry could feel himself shrink as he stood up and muttered a "Good afternoon, sir."

"What brings you here, Mr. Potter?" he asked Harry, eyeing him warily.

Harry could feel his ears burning. _He knows_, he thought to himself. Somehow, he knows. _Maybe Hermione told him. She and her dad has always been close_.

"I………" he croaked. "I was wondering if Hermione was here. She left the castle early yesterday and she wasn't back for the graduation rites today. I thought I should come here, to make sure she's okay."

"Hermione is fine, Mr. Potter. She is not ill, not in the usual way at least." His cinnamon-brown eyes bore into Harry's emerald ones.

"Darling," Mrs. Granger tut-tutted, giving her husband a shocked look. "Harry's just being a concerned friend."

"Hermione doesn't need a 'concerned friend' from him," Mr. Granger said steadily, his eyes still glued to Harry's.

"Sir," Harry began, shaking. He's never felt more scared in his life, except when he faced Voldemort but then he had the option of killing him. Facing Hermione's parents – her dad, especially – was nerve-wracking. Mr. Granger looked ready to pounce on him. "Sir, I didn't mean to hurt Hermione."

"How can you sit there and tell that to my face?" Mr. Granger bellowed. "How can you sit there and tell me that you didn't mean to hurt my daughter when she's gone to escape from you and those damned feelings?"

"Darling," Mrs. Granger said soothingly. "He just didn't realize it until now. Sometimes it takes longer for the other person to see his true feelings."

"They've been friends for seven years. One would think he'd know her enough by now."

Harry grimaced slightly. Mr. Granger had a point. Was he so blinded by the charms and beauty of another person that he didn't see Hermione's own brand of charm and beauty?

"Tell me, Harry Potter – why would you want to know where my daughter is?"

"I'd like to talk to her, sir. I'd like to tell her that………"

__

It's now or never, Harry. Do it.

"I'd like to tell her that I love her, too, sir."

Mr. Granger's facial features softened considerably after that statement and Mrs. Granger couldn't help but sob.

"We can't tell you where Hermione is, Mr. Potter. My daughter made me promise not to tell you. And I keep my promises."

Harry felt his heart sink, but he lost no hope. After that day, he was so determined to show Mr. Granger that he really loved his daughter that he doubled his efforts in his present work. He wanted him to know that he could support Hermione when the time came that they would meet again.

Harry went to the Grangers' home every weekend, when he didn't have training or a Quidditch match. At times, when he felt so alone at night, he would leave. Whenever Hermione's smiling face popped up at the most inconvenient times, he would leave.

The Grangers have a bench on the front lawn and Harry sat there, long into the day, then leaving when the clock struck 9, when it was obvious that Hermione wasn't going to show. But he would show up again, on the next weekend. Mrs. Granger had taken such a liking to him that she would read him letters from Hermione. She was careful to omit any statements about where she is, but would continue to read on so formidably that Harry found out where Hermione took her reading habits from. Mr. Granger, on the other hand, was still a little uneasy about Harry but left him alone most of the time. They would pass by each other when Mr. Granger would be off to work, muttering a polite 'Good morning.' And Mr. Granger would come home and Harry would still be there, sitting on the bench.

*End of Flashback*

Harry stood beyond the gate that separated the lawn and the sidewalk. He stared up at the two-floor house and focused his eyes on the dark room at the left side of the second-floor. Hermione's room.

Four years. Four years since he's last heard anything from her. And the memory that evoked in him when he last saw her – she was running away from him. He had always berated himself since then. How stupid he was, to let her slip through his fingers like that! Admittedly, he enjoyed his time with Diana. And Hermione was right, she did make him happy. But Diana was hardly what you would call a potential relationship, he realized that now. They have nothing in common, except magic. She didn't even know how Quidditch was played until Hermione had explained it to her, and nothing came of it.Hermione, however………

Hermione was always there. She cheered for him and Ron whenever Gryffindor played, and she would scream loudly when Harry got the Snitch. She was always there to help him with his homework or to get him out of trouble, if need be. She would go with him to Hogsmeade to buy a present for someone else, even when she was hurting inside.

Hermione doesn't have to hurt anymore, he'll make sure of it.

__

As long as I get to see her again.

"Harry?" Mr. Granger had stuck his head out the front door, looking at him curiously. "What are you doing here? We're not due to see you till the weekend."

"Oh, Mr. Granger. I'm sorry to bother you. I got a little lonely tonight and I thought a walk might clear my head."

"Well, don't just stand there, boy. Come on inside before people think you're a stalker and call the police."

Harry walked over to the gate. "It's very kind of you, sir, but I just wanted to………well, I just wanted to think of Hermione for a bit. This is the closest I could get to her memory, sir. I hope you don't mind if I just leave quietly. I didn't want to bother you or Mrs. Granger."

Suddenly, Mr. Granger walked over to him and placed his hand on his shoulder. The first sign of – well – anything from Hermione's dad. "I don't know you, Harry. But Hermione has told me, many times over, that you're one of her best friends. You do understand that I look out for her a lot. She's my only daughter, my only child. I don't like seeing her getting hurt."

"I know, sir," Harry replied, almost silently.

"But like I said, Harry, I don't know you. But also, there must be something in you that makes you come back every weekend in the early morning and leave so late at night that tells me that you could really love my daughter."

"I do – I love Hermione."

"Yet to be proven, Harry. But far be it from me to deny my daughter the dedication you've shown us in the past four years." He smiled at Harry before turning away.

Harry put his hands in his pockets and began to retrace his steps back to Diagon Alley.

"Harry."

"Yes, sir?"

Mr. Granger filled the door frame with an aura of subdued energy. "Hermione will be coming home this weekend."


	2. Surprising Hermione

A/N: Thanks to all the people who've reviewed my story so far. I think you already know what's going to happen in this chapter, but don't worry. This story is going to be far from predictable. I'm planning some twists in the succeeding chapters so keep reading it. Thanks again, people!  
  
CHAPTER 1:  
  
Harry almost broke the door to the apartment as he came scrambling in. "Ron!" he called out, hastily hanging his coat on the rack. "Ron! Are you home yet?"  
  
A tired-looking Ron Weasley lifted his head from the couch where he fell asleep. "Can you make any more noise, Harry? I don't think the wizards in Ireland heard you," he grumbled, scratching his head and yawning.  
  
Harry ignored his friend and sat down on the armchair opposite the couch. "Ron, I've got news. Hermione's coming home."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Hermione. She's returning from wherever she was in the past four years. I'm finally going to see her again..."  
  
"Wait a minute," Ron said, holding his right hand out to stop Harry's babbling. "How did you know Hermione was coming home?" His blue eyes glazed and his jaw dropped slightly. "You haven't been going through my post, have you?"  
  
"What? No, of course not, Ron. I know better than to do that. I just came from the Grangers. Her dad told me that she was coming home this weekend." Harry had a huge smile on his face. "She's coming back, Ron. I'll finally be able to tell her..." He paused. He's never admitted loving Hermione to Ron before.  
  
"Tell her what, Harry?"  
  
"To tell her that I love her, Ron." There. He had said it. And it felt good.  
  
But Ron's eyes were quite downcast. "Well, I'm sure she wouldn't mind hearing that from you."  
  
Harry eyed his best friend. "What do you mean by that? Doesn't she ever ask about me in her letters?"  
  
/That's right, Potter. That didn't sound conceited at all,/ he thought to himself sarcastically.  
  
"She did, several times in her earlier letters. But now, she hardly asks about you at all. It was basic stuff before like, how you were, if you were still with Diana and Quidditch. In her letters last year and this year's, she doesn't ask anything about you at all. Which is kind of odd when you think about it."  
  
"You did tell her that I didn't have a girlfriend after she left?" Harry asked slowly.  
  
"I told her that you didn't have a girlfriend, but you were going out with some girls."  
  
"How could you tell her that?" Harry demanded.  
  
"'Cause it's the truth, Harry! I can't lie to Hermione. You know that girl, she knows everything."  
  
"Anything else I should know before I see her again?"  
  
"What do you mean see her again?" Ron breathed nervously. Hermione had specifically told him in her last letter that Harry is NOT to be told of her arrival.  
  
Harry looked at Ron as if he was completely clueless. "I've waited for her for four years, Ron. Don't you think that I'd like to see her again? Especially now that I have something very important to tell her."  
  
"It's not that I don't approve of your going to see her, Harry. But think about it first. In the first place, the reason why she left was because she wanted to get over you. Don't you think you'll be confusing her if you came to see her now?"  
  
Ron stood up and walked towards his room. "I'm not stopping you from going to see her this weekend, Harry. If you want, we could even go together. But if she wanted to see you, then she wouldn't tell me not to tell you that she was coming home." He nudged his head to the letter that was lying on the coffee table. "'Night."  
  
Harry sat down on the couch that Ron had just vacated and opened the piece of parchment. It made him ache inside, just seeing her neat cursive handwriting:  
  
*Ron,  
  
This will be my last letter to you. As of this weekend, I'm finally free to go home. I'm sorry I wasn't able to invite you to the graduation but I didn't want to bother you with coming all the way to Cambridge.  
  
/Cambridge? What's she doing in Cambridge?/  
  
Anyway, my parents are as pleased as punch with my grades and my homecoming, and we're celebrating this weekend. Mum's going to cook a fancy dinner and everything, and I'd like you to come. I also have a little surprise for all of you.  
  
It's a surprise, Ron. Even my parents don't know, so don't owl me right back to ask what it is. I'm guessing that surprised won't be the word that comes to mind when you see the 'surprise,' but shocked. Dad would be delighted. Maybe.  
  
Can't wait to see you again. I've missed you so much. See you on Saturday.  
  
Hermione.  
  
P.S. Would you mind not telling Harry that I'm coming home? I've yet to think of what to say when I do see him. Thanks.*  
  
Harry reread the letter again before folding it up and placing it back on the table. Hermione didn't want to see him, that much was painfully obvious. But surely, she would have given the same instructions to her parents, wouldn't she?  
  
/But she doesn't know that you're at her parents' house every weekend, waiting for any word from her. She wouldn't expect her dad to tell you that she was coming home. /  
  
/But then again, she is going to see you eventually. She even says it in her letter that she's thinking of what to say to you when you do meet - eventually. So, that means she does want to see you, just not now./  
  
/When then?/  
  
Harry let out a deep sigh and leaned back into the couch. As far as he was concerned, he was going to see her this weekend. Mr. Granger had told him on no uncertain terms that she was coming home. That meant that he wanted Harry to be there when Hermione arrived. And he could always say that he was acting on what Mr. Granger told him, right?  
  
Another sigh escaped his lips. Even in his brain it didn't sound right.  
  
~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
I took in the more-than-familiar sight of the street before it led to my driveway. This was home. Well, Cambridge was my home for the last four years but this - the red roof, the white exterior and the homey sign on the front door - this was home. I could recall so many neighbors' birthday parties and block soirées and Halloween trick-or-treating. I could still see the walk in front of the old Martin's house where I got my first bruise from riding a bicycle. The jungle of wildflowers that extended from Mrs. Woodhouse's flower box, over her wall to the neighbor's wall. The little gnome statues that stood guard over the Hodgkins' lawn.  
  
I laughed to myself about the gnomes, remembering the de-gnoming at Ron's house. And thinking about the de-gnoming made me think about Ron who, in turn, made me think of Harry.  
  
I know it was rude of me to even ask Ron not to tell Harry that I was coming home. But I couldn't face him now - not with the surprise I was planning to spring on my parents and Ron today. I spent the last four years devoiding myself of any feelings I might have for him. I tried to block out every happy memory we've ever had, in hopes that I would also be able to squash these damned feelings out of me. It worked - a little bit. Last night, just before I went to sleep, I thought that if I had to face Harry now, I'd be able to keep a straight face.  
  
Besides, I don't think Dad would be real keen on having Harry. I'm twenty- one and he still protects me a little too much.  
  
The little white VW Beetle that I had gotten from my parents when I left Hogwarts stopped right in front of my house. I felt the corner of my eyes tear up and I had never realized how much I've missed my home and my family until that moment.  
  
"Hermione!" Dad rushed out of the house, calling my name. I jumped out from my seat and ran over to him, my arms outstretched.  
  
"Daddy!" I cried, enveloping him in a warm embrace. An embrace that I had never felt since I was a little girl, and boy, did I miss it.  
  
"I'm so glad you're finally home," Dad whispered in my hair.  
  
"Yeah," I murmured. "It's been too long."  
  
Dad pulled away from me and gave me a long look. "You've grown up so much, Hermione. I hardly recognize you anymore."  
  
I gave my dad a little josh on the arm. "Oh, stop, no I haven't," I kidded, but I knew I have changed. I had grown taller in four years and the rest of my body accorded themselves with my newfound height. I was more slender (and damn proud of my legs, thank you very much) and actually had a chest now to speak of. I liked my mouth a little because I thought it was quite pouty and can produce a nice smile on occasion. My eyes were still a little glazed from all that studying in Cambridge, but the best students have no rest. My hair tamed a bit, going from extremely wild and frizzy to sophisticated waves and curled locks that fell delicately to frame my face. I had received my fair share of admirers from Cambridge. Granted, I was no supermodel but the attention was quite flattering. Yet, I spent my first year there thinking of only one pair of emerald green eyes and one dreamy, heart-wrenching smile. Harry's. I shook the image out of my head. This was *no* time to be thinking of Harry.  
  
Dad was still looking me over and shaking his head in mock disbelief. "I think I'd have to install new locks on the door when every bloke in London sees you," he teased. I laughed at his joke.  
  
"Hermione!" I heard Mum yell from behind Dad. She ran up from the front door, in her pristine white apron and her brown hair tied in a bun behind her head. I released Dad and opened my arms to her.  
  
"Mum!" I breathed, unable to contain the tears that had strolled down my cheeks. "I've missed you so much."  
  
"I've missed you terribly, honey," Mum told me, smoothing my hair. "You've grown up a lot, hasn't she, darling?" she asked Dad.  
  
"I was just telling her that," he replied, his hands folded across his chest. Then, he looked up and glanced past me. "Hello," he said. "Who are you?"  
  
I let go of Mum and turned around. Behind me stood the most perfect gentleman at Cambridge, possibly in all of London. He was quite handsome, most of the girls at school fancied him, with his tousled, sand-blond hair and piercing green eyes. His eyes were nowhere near as emerald and as captivating as Harry's and I am embarrassed to admit that part of the reason why I was attracted to him was because his eyes reminded me of Harry's. He was fairly well-built, being Captain of the football team and he towered over me with a good 6'4" (against my 5'8" frame). He had graduated alongside me with a medical degree in surgery and he was quite well-off. Women swooned over his perfect manners and boyish appeal and men envied him for his money, charm and intelligence. And he had asked me out first, in my second year. Since then, we were inseparable.  
  
"David Callaway, sir. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Granger, Mrs. Granger," he said politely, extending his hand to meet my dad's in a firm handshake. "I'm..."  
  
"Is Ron here already?" I interrupted David. If I was going to make an announcement, I'd rather make it in one action and not two. Then I noticed that Mum's eyes met Dad's in a gaze that was always familiar to me, like they were hiding something.  
  
"'Mione, I'll just get your stuff from the car and bring them in. Why don't you and your parents go on inside? I'm sure you'd like to see home again," David said, putting a light hand on my shoulder.  
  
I nodded and walked toward the front door. They were definitely hiding something from me. The questions is, what?  
  
"Did you redecorate the whole house and not tell me?" I asked them, stepping over the front door.  
  
"No," Dad replied cautiously, a little too cautiously I noted.  
  
"Is Mum pregnant and you don't know how to tell me?" Mum managed a smile.  
  
"No, dear. But there's something in the house that you might be a little surprised to see," she said.  
  
I grinned. "Whatever it is, Mum, I'm pretty sure nothing will surprise me more than my surprise is to you," I replied, turning my back to them and facing the living room.  
  
I take it back. Their surprise wasn't at all what I expected.  
  
"Hello, Hermione," Harry said breathlessly, his eyes gazing deeply into mine. "It's been a long time."  
  
Ron stood beside him, silently mouthing an apology but I ignored him. "Harry," I whispered tentatively. All the memories and feelings that I had shut out of my soul long ago resurfaced and I was shaking inside. "What are you doing here?"  
  
Harry took a step toward me. I could feel his hand reach out, then close in on my right hand, his finger grazing my skin lightly. "I...I wanted to see you. I've missed you and I've got something very important to tell you, Hermione," he said my name in a whisper.  
  
"Harry, please..."  
  
"Where do you want me to place these, 'Mione?" David's voice interrupted. Ron looked at David, his mouth agape. Harry looked from me to him then to me again. Mum and Dad stood by the front door. I gently pulled my hand away from Harry's grasp.  
  
"Everyone, this is David Callaway." I paused and looked at Harry tentatively. "My fianceé." 


	3. Thinking About Harry

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter characters. David Callaway belongs to me, though.  
  
CHAPTER 2:  
  
I pulled Ron out of the living room and into the kitchen. I know, I know. It's not really a wise idea for me to leave Harry and David together in the same room, especially when Harry had looked like he wanted to pounce on David. But David, being the nice guy that he usually is, held his hand out to Harry and he took it, albeit reluctantly, and began chatting away - asking about what he did for work and such. I'm praying that Harry wouldn't lose his cool and tell him that he plays Seeker for the Cannons - David's ignorant about my 'other life' as a witch. He thinks I'm just a political science researcher.  
  
"Why is he here?" I hissed at Ron when we were out of earshot.  
  
"I didn't tell him, Hermione - honest!" Ron explained. "Your dad told him that you were coming home today and he insisted on coming. I even told him that you specifically said in the letter that you didn't want him to come but he wants to. I can't do anything about it."  
  
I threw up my hands in a gesture of desperation. "I didn't want him to hear this, not yet," I cried. "And all the feelings I thought I had sorted out - augh! They're back! I can't believe this!"  
  
"You're engaged to that guy?" Ron asked. "For real?"  
  
"What do you think?" I snapped, sitting down on a stool and burying my head in my hands.  
  
"Well, I thought you were doing it just to spite Harry."  
  
"That's the big surprise, Ron and I didn't know Harry was going to be here. And I had to do something out there. I'm over him! I'm over him!" I repeated.  
  
"You don't need to tell me, but why are you telling yourself. If you're marrying this Dave guy, then you must've gotten over Harry. I mean, you wouldn't be engaged to someone you'll only settle for, right?"  
  
Ron hit a soft spot and I cringed. I hate it when he's right. I stood up and walked back to the living room - Ron was right behind me - just in time to hear David ask, "So, how long have you known Hermione?"  
  
They haven't realized that we'd walked in. "Since we were eleven," Harry replied.  
  
"Oh. Were you schoolmates then?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"'Mione never told me what school she went to. She says its right here in London. I'd like to see it sometime."  
  
"They don't allow a lot of visitors in the school, "Harry said. "It's highly exclusive."  
  
David smiled at him, ignoring the slightly raised tone of voice Harry used. "Well, we both know how private schools are, mate. Need more paperwork just to get in than getting a visa at the embassy."  
  
"How about you? How long have you and..." Harry stopped and felt his heart twinge at the thought. "How long have you and Hermione known each other?"  
  
"Definitely not longer than the two of you, mate," David replied laughingly. "I noticed her when she was in her second year and I was still undergrad in med school. Asked her out for a cup of coffee after studying. 'Mione was always diligent in studying, graduated at the top of her class, did she tell you? I'm very proud of her."  
  
Harry clenched his fist everytime he referred to her as 'Mione, like he knew her enough to call her by a nickname. And he was proud of her, too, when she graduated at the top of their class at Hogwarts. "Yeah," Harry replied. "Hermione was always the best at everything she does. I'm very proud of her as well."  
  
David raised a brow, still smiling. "I hope you don't take this the wrong way, mate, but I've never heard 'Mione say anything about you before. She's told me stories about her best friends, Ron she mentions several times over but I think she neglects to mention your name.."  
  
*Uh-oh,* I thought. *Damage control.*  
  
"Aren't you tired, David? Why don't you freshen up a bit? Dinner's in a couple of minutes more," I said, trying to stray David from Harry's piercing gaze.  
  
"I guess I should, shouldn't I?" he said, smiling as he stood up. "We have been driving all day. Would your parents mind if I used the loo?"  
  
"Of course not," I told him, replacing him on his seat. "Bathroom's up the stairs, it's the first door to your left."  
  
"Thanks, love," David murmured, leaning down to kiss me on the lips. From the corner of my eye, I could see Harry clench his fist. "Great talking to you, Harry," he said before walking away.  
  
"Congratulations," Harry muttered darkly. I could see he was trying not to sound so, so...dark, but to no avail. "You're engaged."  
  
I nodded warmly. "I'm sorry I don't write to you, Harry," I began. "I was too scared that I made a complete arse of myself when I left without saying goodbye to you. It was incredibly rude of me, but I guess you've had four years to figure that out."  
  
"What were you doing at Cambridge?"  
  
Ron sat on an armchair opposite the couch, watching us have our conversation. I wished he would help me but I got myself into this mess, I could get myself out. Harry looked over at Ron before he spoke again. "Ron wouldn't tell me anything. You made him promise not to tell me."  
  
"Yes, I did," I stammered. "Well, Professor Dumbledore gave me an opportunity to study Political Science at Cambridge, with an old wizard who works as a Dean there. He says that he thinks that I have the makings of a great ambassador to the Muggle world and for me to become a diplomat, I'd have to get secondary education. Naturally, I couldn't pass this up."  
  
"Is that why you left early?"  
  
"Yes. Professor Asser, the Cambridge wizard, wanted to get a headstart and Professor Dumbledore gave me his blessing," I said. Okay, so I lied about Professor Asser wanting to begin earlier. But Harry seemed satisfied with that answer. After I left, well, he knows the whole story after that.  
  
"You haven't told - him - ..."  
  
"His name is David, Harry."  
  
"You haven't told him that you're a witch," Harry said stubbornly.  
  
"No, I haven't."  
  
"Then how are you going to marry him?"  
  
Wait...was that a glimmer of hope I just saw sparkling in his eyes.  
  
"I'll tell him. I'm just waiting for the right time. David's a pretty understanding guy."  
  
The glimmer was gone. "Oh," Harry muttered sullenly. "Well, I'm glad that you're happy now. You..."  
  
/Tell her, you idiot!/  
  
"You mean a lot to me."  
  
/Gee, Harry, that was smooth. Where's that Gryffindor courage?/  
  
/At the bottom of my stomach./  
  
/G-reat.../  
  
I smiled at him. I placed my hand on top of his and felt a sudden, subtle jolt of electricity course through me. Trying to ignore that sensation, I said, "That means a lot, Harry, coming from you."  
  
We sat there like that for a while and it felt like we were best friends again. Just best friends - only we're not. I had loved him and left him and he, well, I don't know what he ever did about my letter or if he even read it.  
  
"Dinner, darlings," Mum called from the dining table. Ron, he hasn't changed, stood up immediately and was the first to reach the table. Playing Quidditch certainly built up his appetite more than, well, more than it already was. Harry and I stood up at the same time and walked over to the table.  
  
"You're not getting married tomorrow, are you?" Harry whispered just as we heard the upstairs bathroom door close.  
  
"No, of course not."  
  
"Well, do you and David have plans for tomorrow?"  
  
I shook my head. "Actually, no. David's spending the day in the city, meeting with a colleague. Why do you ask?"  
  
Harry's eyes emanated shyness all of a sudden and I can't help thinking just how handsome he looked with his head bent down, a lock of his (already) unkempt hair falling across his forehead, tempting me to brush it off and a shy smile dancing on his lips. All of a sudden, I was in love with him again.  
  
/Focus, Granger. Focus./  
  
"Since you haven't been to the wizarding world for a while, I thought, maybe...I have the day off tomorrow so I was wondering..."  
  
"Wondering what, Harry?"  
  
We stopped before the dining table and faced each other. "I'm sure Professor Dumbledore would be pleased to see you and Ron and I could take you around Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley. It's changed a bit since you left, and I'm sure we could bump into Hagrid somewhere. Oh no, wait, Ron has team practice tomorrow..."  
  
"I'd love to, Harry."  
  
He looked up, his hair falling all over his forehead. "Huh?"  
  
"Go visit the wizarding world again. It has been a long time and I could really use some Chocolate Frogs and butterbeers."  
  
Harry's face broke into a wide smile. "Really? You mean it?"  
  
I gave him a slight josh on the arm, like what I did with my dad earlier. "You make it sound like I'm a celebrity. I should be asking you if you mean it. After all, you are *the* Harry Potter."  
  
"Oh, come off it. Four years and you still haven't changed," he teased. "But do you really mean it, Hermione? To spend time with me? We haven't been on very good terms for the past several years, you know."  
  
"I know and I want to change all that. You're my best friend, Harry, so let's start from scratch. And just as long as you don't cancel on me tomorrow."  
  
David reached the table and Harry and Hermione broke their gazes. But before they took their seats, Harry held Hermione's hand for several moments, leaned near her ear and whispered, "Never, Hermione." 


	4. Out On The Town

A/N: Thank you! Thank you! Thank you ALL for your wonderful reviews! It warms my heart...absolutely a million times better than winning an Oscar. I know some of you said that Hermione bringing home a fiancée was a little predictable but trust me - this is no ordinary fiancée. If you want to find out why, you'd have to keep reading. Thanks again, guys! I really hope to read more of your reviews again.  
  
DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter characters, but David Callaway is mine.  
  
CHAPTER 4:  
  
I threw up my hands and let out an exasperated sigh as I surveyed the mess I had made. My clock read 8:45a.m. - fifteen more minutes before Harry was to pick me up for our little excursion back to the wizarding world. And in some weird, warped way, I had absolutely nothing to wear! Never mind the fact that I was about a foot deep in clothes that I had carelessly unpacked the night before and were now strewn haphazardly on my bedroom floor. There I was, standing in my generic gray underthings, contemplating the merits (and consequences) of showing up in Hogsmeade in my knickers.  
  
/Okay,/ I thought, taking a deep breath. /Calm down. Why are you so flustered? You're just going out with Harry, your best friend. There's absolutely no need to impress him./  
  
/I'm not trying to impress him,/ another side of my brain piped up. /Technically, this is my first day back as a witch and nobody's seen me in four years. So, I want them to be totally blown away by the new, revamped Hermione - technically./  
  
/R-ight.../  
  
I held up a navy blue sweater and a matching pleated skirt over my mirror image. Ugh! Too Cambridge.  
  
A red sleeveless top that had a ripped V-neckline which forged a naked valley between my breasts and pair of khaki pants that clings tightly over the buttocks and hangs a little too low on the waist. Too sexy for daytime.  
  
A plain, white shirt, denim capris and white Birkenstocks. Too - well - plain.  
  
"Hermione, honey!" I heard Mum yell from downstairs. "Harry's here! Shall I send him up?"  
  
I gasped and ran for the lock on my doorknob. "No!" I yelled back. "I'll be right down."  
  
/As soon as I decide what to wear./  
  
My eyes roved over the mess and spotted a white, shirred-top, peasant blouse that I had never worn before and immediately pulled it on over the denim capris. Then, I got on my knees and rummaged under my bed for a pair of white wedges to complete the outfit. I tied my hair in a loose ponytail, dabbed on some clear lipgloss and just a coat of mascara. I decided to skip the blush - my cheeks were already high with color (perhaps because I was panicking). I carefully slipped my wand inside a straw tote that David had given me from one of his trips to New York, along with a pair of sunglasses, a small change purse and a tiny red pouch where I keep my Gringotts key. Giving myself a quick look in the mirror, I could see that I didn't look too bad. I just hope I don't look too out of place in the wizarding world. I bounded downstairs and held my breath.  
  
/Damn, he looks good,/ I thought, taking in Harry's appearance as he stood up to greet me. I don't think I noticed how much he's changed physically last night, owing to my befuddled state. But seeing him, now, takes my breath away. He's a little taller than David, my mind registered, and a heck of a lot muscular. I could make out the outline of his biceps and abdomen through the red cotton sweater that he wore over a pair of creased khakis.  
  
I always liked him in red - it brings out the green of his eyes and reminds me of Christmas. He smiled at me slowly, that dreamy, sexy smile that I had fantasized about in my first year at Cambridge - and suddenly had an irresistible urge to throw my arms around his neck and kiss him senseless.  
  
If only the guiltying weight of the silver engagement ring David had given me hadn't hung so heavily on my finger - a gentle reminded that I had already promised someone else that I'd marry them. But the same thought crossed my mind as I swallowed the urge and found the strength to walk the last remaining steps that would bring us face-to-face.  
  
/How did he become so damned sexy? And gorgeous?/ I bit my lower lip to keep myself from fixing the lock of hair that had fallen on his forehead.  
  
Granted that I had followed Harry's Quidditch career from day one by having Crookshanks fetch me copies of "Witch Weekly," "The Daily Prophet," and "Quidditch Quarterly" from Professor Asser's owl, Loni, who flew to Hogsmeade every week. Not only his Quidditch, but his steady string of girlfriends as well. It hurt me at first to find out that my leaving didn't affect him that much, if at all. Then again, I couldn't really expect Harry to pine for me or actually wait for me, even if I had told him that I loved him. He's got the whole world going for him. And besides, Harry's always had this thing for girls with beautiful, long, straight hair that feels like silk when it brushes against the skin. Like those girls you see in shampoo ads. Cho was first, then Diana, then Lavender Brown and several others (I'd forgotten most of them) and most recently, Blaise Zabini. And I'm painfully aware that my hair doesn't have a ghost of a chance at being straight - ever. So I settled with just reading about him in the magazines and ogling him in his posters. I'm a little embarrased to admit that I had once put up a poster of Harry without his Quidditch robes on (his trousers were on, mind you), courtesy of the sex-crazed editors of "Witch Weekly."  
  
It's down now, just in case you were wondering.  
  
"Wow, Hermione," Harry said pleasantly. "You look great."  
  
"Thanks. You don't look too bad yourself," I replied.  
  
Harry raised a brow, a mischievous smile spreading on his lips. "I know, I know. I look good. Comes with the territory of being famous and all."  
  
I gave him a little nudge. "Don't you start getting a swelled head on me or I'll hex you. I still know how to."  
  
He laughed lightly and offered his arm to me. "Ready to go?"  
  
"Yeah," I said, taking his arm.  
  
"What time will I tell David that you'll be back? In case he calls?" Mum asked.  
  
/I really have to talk to Mum about ruining beautiful moments./  
  
"David never calls, Mum. He knows where I am. He'll wait for me to call him." I opened the front door and pulled Harry outside. "Bye, Mum. Bye, Dad. Don't wait up," I called, closing the door behind me.  
  
~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
"Do you think I should get more of the sugar quills?" I asked Harry, casting a backwards glance at the display of delicate pink-and-blue feathers made of spun sugar.  
  
Harry snickered. "I think you've got enough sugar quills to last you a decade."  
  
I made a pout, putting my hands on my hips. "You try going four years without eating any of Honeydukes' sweets."  
  
"I've done pretty well, avoiding sweets, thanks," he countered lightly, carrying my basket effortlessly.  
  
"I'll bet," I murmured, leaning down to peer at Butterbeer candies - a new confection that, once put in the mouth, lasts as long as a mug of Butterbeer and makes the eater feel as if he or she was actually drinking the sweet, addictive beverage. Harry leaned down as well and grabbed a handful for me and placed them inside the basket.  
  
It was almost five p.m. and Harry and I had gone to almost every shop in Hogsmeade. He had been the perfect host. We stopped by Diagon Alley first where we met Hagrid and his wife, the former Madame Maxime. Professor Snape was there as well, no doubt stocking up on potion ingredients as he was still teaching Potions at Hogwarts. We passed Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, each sipping a cherry float. In Hogsmeade, Harry made it a point to steer me towards Weasley's Wizard Wheezes first to see Fred and George and Fred's two-year old twin girls by Angelina, Gwen and Fiona.  
  
"Never knew how much trouble twins could be," Fred had told me, smiling adoringly at his daughters who were playing a game of romp with *Uncle Harry* and *Crazy Uncle George*. "You don't reckon George and I were as naughty as this?"  
  
"No," I replied. "You two were worse." Fred laughed at this and proceeded to pull Fiona (or was it Gwen?) off Harry's back saying, "All right, that's enough. You girls better wash up for lunch or Mummy will have my hide."  
  
George pulled Gwen (or Fiona) off his back and let her run to the back of the shop with her sister. "Angelina's got Fred by the noose," he said, winking.  
  
"You're one to speak," Fred exclaimed defiantly, turning to me. "Alicia has you at her beck and call."  
  
"Am not!" George.  
  
"Are too!" Fred.  
  
"Am not!" George.  
  
"Are too!" Fred.  
  
Harry and I escaped them in the heat of their "Am not - Are too" argument. Let Angelina and Alicia take care of their husbands.  
  
"Actually, Fred and George have turned into hen-pecked husbands and they like it," Harry supplied helpfully as we made our way to the Three Broomsticks. "They just don't want to admit it."  
  
The afternoon at the Three Broomsticks wasn't as good as the sunshiny atmosphere we had just left. Sure, I missed the butterbeer and the pumpkin pie but I was totally unprepared for one unexpected person who showed up while Harry and I were laughing over old Hogwarts memories.  
  
"Well, well, well, the golden girl returns," a familiar oily, obviously- full-of-disdain voice sneered behind my back. "Where'd you run off to, Granger? Couldn't stand being just a shadow to the famous Harry Potter anymore?"  
  
Who else, but our resident villain?  
  
"Malfoy," I said as coldly as I can, turning in my seat to face him. I don't care what the Daily Prophet says about him being one of the most eligible and handsome bachelors in the wizarding world. Draco Malfoy will always be the two-faced, sinister, oily-haired kid I had the displeasure of meeting.  
  
I saw his eyes widen a little as he took in what the new, revamped me. /Yes! Score!/ But Malfoy was Malfoy. He finds ways of ruining everything.  
  
"I can see why you were so intent on looking for her, Potter," he said slowly. I could feel his eyes undressing me and I bristled, crossing my arms across my chest. "Who knew how deliciously sexy you were going to turn out to be?"  
  
I was able to keep my cool but Harry sprang up from his seat and grabbed Malfoy by his collar. "You apologize to her right now, Malfoy!" Harry hissed at him.  
  
"Why should I? What I said was true." Harry tightened his grip. I was afraid he was going to choke him to death.  
  
"Hermione doesn't need slimy gits like you ogling her. You've insulted her one too many times - I'm not going to let you get away with it anymore."  
  
Damage control mode. "Harry, let him go. He's not worth it."  
  
Malfoy managed to smile cruelly through Harry's grip. "Listen to the mudblood, Potter. I don't think you'd want to end up in Azkaban just when she's decided to come home."  
  
"Come on, Harry," I said, gripping the arm that was holding Malfoy. "Let him go. He's not worth it."  
  
Harry looked at me for a moment then released his hold on Malfoy. He (Malfoy) rubbed his neck and coughed a little, the smile never leaving his face. "The problem with you, Potter," he began, looking straight at Harry, then to me. "Is you don't appreciate what you've got. You just let them go without leaving your mark on them. Like Granger, here."  
  
I guess he was re-thinking about using 'Mudblood.'  
  
"She left once and you went upside down trying to find her. And now that she's here again you're going to make the same stupid mistake."  
  
"I don't recall asking you for advice, Malfoy," Harry replied icily.  
  
"You may be famous, Potter, but you sure are stupid." Malfoy gave me a last, long - disturbing - look. "If you find yourself wanting a *real* man, I'm always available." Harry tried to lunge for him but I blocked his way, leaving Malfoy to walk away feeling proud of himself.  
  
The rest of the afternoon went by fairly well. By the time we're at Honeydukes, Harry was back to his old self.  
  
"I've got an idea," he suddenly piped up as he placed the basket on the counter for payment. "How would you like to see where Ron trains? The Puddlemere Training Pitch isn't very far from here and I'm pretty sure Oliver wouldn't mind if you and I went there. Although he'd probably accuse me of being a spy or something."  
  
"Oh, is he Captain now?" I asked, knowning fully well that Oliver Wood managed to elbow his way into being Captain of Puddlemere United since two years ago, according to "Quidditch Quarterly."  
  
But I wasn't about to tell Harry that.  
  
"Yeah. About time, too. Puddlemere needs a big break to get back into the league and I think Oliver just might be the person to lead them there. So, what do you think?"  
  
I pulled out my change purse for a galleon when Harry put his hand on top of mine to stop me.  
  
"I'm paying," he said, placing a shiny gold galleon on the counter.  
  
"Harry..."  
  
"Training pitch?" he asked, changing the subject in rapid-fire fashion like he always did. "Then we could have dinner at our flat. Ron's been learning how to cook. I think Mrs. Weasley finally caught onto us eating out so much."  
  
"If you're sure they wouldn't mind," I answered, getting the bag of sweets from the shopkeeper.  
  
"They wouldn't mind at all," Harry exclaimed happily. "This is great. We can make fun of Ron while he's training. Just like old times."  
  
*Just like old times...*  
  
~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
"You should've seen Ron when the draft officials for the Quidditch World Cup were here to see Puddlemere play," Harry was saying an hour later as we sat on the bleachers, munching away on the sweets we had just bought.  
  
I was busy chewing the legs off a Chocolate Frog as I listened to him, albeit absently. I was actually staring at his mouth as his tongue slipped between his lips to lick the sugar quill that he had nicked from the Honeydukes bag.  
  
I never realized it but there's something really - sexy - about watching a guy like Harry eat candy. And I never realized that sugar quills could be so amazingly...arousing.  
  
I'll never look at a sugar quill in the same way again.  
  
"Ron thought that he could impress the officials by imitating a Wronski Feint." Harry snorted. "So while he was guarding the goal posts, he suddenly made a go for the Quaffle which was in Gray Stewart's hands. Gray got confused and let go of the Quaffle and Ron had to speed up to get to it before it touched the ground. He did the Wronski Feint, but he also crashed into the dirt. Imagine a Keeper doing a Seeker move." Harry snorted again, placing the quill between his lips.  
  
I stifled a groan and focused my eyes on Ron, who was busy blocking shots from his teammates. "What did the officials say?"  
  
"They said they were a little confused as to what position Ron played but in the end they put him on the team as Reserve Keeper. Oliver's playing first-string Keeper in the World Cup."  
  
"And you're first-string Seeker," I added helpfully.  
  
"Hey, Harry!" Oliver yelled, a few feet above us. "How about a little practice with us? Since you're under the pretense of having a date with Hermione to spy on us, let me be under the pretense of scrimmage so I could spy on your moves." He grinned widely. "Besides, I could really use a challenge for my Seeker. Cho's been getting too nice with the other boys."  
  
"You're bloody lucky I'm friends with most of them," Cho piped up, flying in from behind Oliver. "Or they'd have had your head for throwing the Quaffle in their faces one too many times. Hey, Harry, Hermione. Nice to see you again."  
  
Cho Chang - Harry's first-ever girlfriend. You had no idea how many girls wanted to be her in our fifth year when she actually went out with him to Hogsmeade. There was conflict of course, her being the Ravenclaw Seeker, but I don't think she ever got over Cedric Diggory. She and Harry ended their relationship after the Christmas holidays but they were on very good terms.  
  
Looking at her now, I could only say that Cho gets more beautiful by the year. Her perfect Oriental features are more refined now, more sophisticated than the last time I saw her that she didn't look like she played Quidditch at all. She looked more like a model.  
  
"What makes you think Cho wouldn't be too nice to me?" Harry asked Oliver, reaching for the Nimbus Two Thousand and One that Cho handed to him.  
  
Oliver made a face. "Well, she is your ex and all. I was thinking along the lines of revenge for dumping her."  
  
"Excuse me," Cho said haughtily. "No one dumped anyone. It was all done by mutual agreement." Oliver snorted and Harry laughed.  
  
"Oy! Are we playing Quidditch or what?" Ron yelled from the goal posts.  
  
"Ugh!" Oliver complained. "Tell Ron to lighten up a bit, will you, Harry? The World Cup's a couple of months away but he's acting like it's tomorrow." He looked over his shoulder and yelled back. "We're coming! Don't get your knickers in a twist, Weasley!"  
  
Harry handed me his sugar quill, saying, "Hold this for me till I get back, will you?"  
  
"I don't know," I said slowly, putting the quill between my fingers. "I get awfully hungry."  
  
He feigned shock. "You've got a bag full to bursting with sweets. Don't touch that quill."  
  
"Hmm...maybe," I replied before he flew away to play with the team.  
  
I learned a lesson that afternoon - never hold a sugar quill for too long. It melts, especially on a balmy spring day like this one.  
  
The tip of the feather bent over to my wrist and smeared my skin with sticky pink-and-blue sugar. Never one to waste sweet stuff, I licked the confection off my skin just in time to hear Cho yell, "I got the Snitch!"  
  
"What?" Harry was yelling back. "No fair! I was distracted!"  
  
Cho was doing a victory lap around the Pitch and Harry was right smack in the middle, yelling for a rematch, saying he was distracted. But he was smiling. Cho was finally one-up over him.  
  
"You've got to concentrate in Quidditch, mate. Focus," Blair Morgan, one of Puddlemere's Beaters told him, putting an arm around Harry. "Can't let a beautiful girl take over your brain."  
  
I blushed profusely as Blair pointed to me and Harry jabbed him lightly in the ribs with a smile.  
  
"Women will be the death of us, mate!" Blair called over his shoulder, as he flew away to join Cho in her victory lap. Harry flew back to where I was sitting and landed his broom.  
  
"Here," I said, handing the sugar quill back to him. He took it with a slightly weird look on his face, but ate it all. I licked my finger clean of the sugar before Ron made his way to us.  
  
"I think you should come to more games, Hermione. Especially when we're playing the Cannons," Ron said teasingly, looking at Harry then to me. "So, dinner? Let's go. I'm starving."  
  
I got up and brushed the seat of my pants, then casted a wave to Oliver and Cho who waved back. "You're always hungry, Ron. Glad to see you haven't changed."  
  
/Unlike some people,/ I thought shadily, glancing at Harry and his suddenly peculiar behaviour. 


	5. Ron, Harry and Me

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter characters.  
  
CHAPTER 4:  
  
"Home sweet home," Harry declared, turning the key to their apartment door and opening it. My eyes traveled the length of their sizable flat, looking at everything - from the plush maroon couch (reminiscent of the Gryffindor Common Room) to their cinder block fireplace, the functional kitchen with all the pots and pans that look like they had never been used, a bookcase filled to the brim with books and other bric-a-brac (trust Ron to place his Broomstick Servicing Kit in a bookcase) and the two very different doors that stood at either side of the room.  
  
I moved toward the nearest one, a redwood door painted in a very, very deep shade of red, a gold doorknob and a vague outline of a broomstick drawn on it. If you looked very closely, you could see that the broomstick was outlined in gold dust.  
  
At least, I think it's gold dust.  
  
Ron lunged forward and gripped the knob before I can. "You can't go in."  
  
"Why not?" I asked him, putting my hands on my hips. "I think I'm entitled to see what lies inside your room, Ronald Weasley, after all the times you've been up in my room when I was Head Girl."  
  
"It's not exactly...clean."  
  
"What do you mean by 'not exactly'? How long has it actually been since you cleaned it?"  
  
Ron grimaced. "Dunno. Couple of months, I guess. Or last year. I've forgotten, really."  
  
I made a face and backed away a step. "You haven't cleaned your room in a year?" I exclaimed. "I clean mine once a week."  
  
"Hey," Ron shot back, looking slightly hurt. "To each their own, eh? If you want to see a clean room, better check out Harry's. He's a neat freak."  
  
I didn't give it a second thought as I bolted for Harry's door - a plain white one with the same gold knob. I turned the handle and gasped. Harry's room *is* clean. A little too clean if you ask me, I mean, for a guy. His walls and ceiling were painted a deep, midnight blue and the ceiling was lightly dotted with small gold stars. I made my way to his bed and sat down.  
  
Soft and comfortable. David has his bed specially contoured to mold his body. It's more comfortable that way, he says. For him, maybe.  
  
Not that I've ever slept in his bed, of course.  
  
* * *  
  
Harry watched silently as Hermione sat down on the edge of his bed and bounced herself a little. He could tell that she was quite comfortable on it - and she should be. Not one girl has complained about his bed.  
  
"You've got great sheets," Hermione murmured, running her lean fingers smoothly over his white cotton sheets. "They're so soft."  
  
He could suddenly feel himself growing hard and he bit his lower lip to keep him from betraying his surprise at feeling this way.  
  
/How does she do it?/ he thought, watching intently as Hermione continued to run her hand through his sheets. /She's just admiring my sheets and she's already got me up./  
  
"You've got *the* most perfect bed," she continued to say, laying her body down on the cool, white sheets. "I like soft beds." She smiled at him when she said it and Harry had to stifle a groan.  
  
/Come on, Hermione, get off the bed. Please get off the bed,/ Harry silently prayed. He remembered what happened earlier at the Quidditch Pitch. One moment he was busy looking around for the Snitch and the next moment he was just flying steadily, helplessly staring at Hermione as she licked her wrist.  
  
He groaned then, of course, as he watched her tongue escape from her mouth and lick whatever it was she was licking from her wrist. Then Cho yelled that she had gotten the Snitch. And now...  
  
/She's right here...on my bed.../ Harry thought, feeling as helpless as before. /Please, please get off the bed. You don't know what you're doing to me... Please, get off the bed before I do something that will make you hate me forever./  
  
He could do it - right now. He could cast a locking and silencing charm on the door to ward off Ron, push Hermione on the bed and take her right there. Judging from the way his body was reacting to her, she would have him come in no more than several seconds. And that idea was *very* tempting.  
  
But Harry knew he wouldn't be able to do it. He respected her too much to violate her in such a way. He wanted her so badly, the pain was almost too much to bear. After all, he's waited four years. But he knew that just seeing the look in her eyes would make him stop. If she wanted him to stop, even when he's just about to come, he knows he'll stop.  
  
But Hermione was just *there*, lying on his bed, looking all sexy and inviting and enticing...  
  
"Are you two going to snog in there all night or are you going to help me make dinner?" Ron called from outside.  
  
He'd have to remind himself to thank Ron for doing that.  
  
Hermione sat up and fixed her hair. "I guess we'd better go and help out. I have to leave soon anyway."  
  
"But it'll be too dark for you to go home," Harry pointed out. "It's not safe for you, even if you were with me. You know how desperate Muggles can be. Why don't you sleep over here..."  
  
She giggled at this. "I can Apparate home, Harry. Or have you forgotten that I'm a witch?"  
  
"Oh..." Harry felt stupid. "Right. Sorry, I guess I did forget..."  
  
"A little help, please!" Ron called again.  
  
* * *  
  
"I hope you don't mind having soup and salad for dinner," Ron was saying when Harry and I left his room. "I haven't really gotten past the soups and salads part of the cookbook Mum gave me last winter."  
  
"Well, at least I know what I'm getting you for your birthday then. A cookbook," I told him, peering at the boiling orange concoction inside a pot. I wrinkled my nose. "What is this?"  
  
"Pumpkin soup," Ron declared proudly. "First ever soup I tried to make."  
  
"Doesn't smell too appealing, does it?" I asked.  
  
"Well, I haven't added the milk and the other herbs in but it tastes great. Ask Harry." He turned to Harry and pointed his ladle at him. "Doesn't it, Harry?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah it does. Terrific," Harry answered, trying to keep a straight face.  
  
"That totally convinces me, Ron," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. Harry opened one cabinet and pulled out three plates and three goblets. I walked over to where he was standing and took a hold of the plates.  
  
"Hey," Harry said softly, placing an hand on my arm. "You're not supposed to do that. You're our guest."  
  
"Harry, I'm not a guest. I might as well be living here with the two of you if I hadn't left. Besides, you've paid for everything today. This is the least I could do to make it up for your kindness."  
  
"This is your welcome-back dinner and you're the guest of honor. I don't think guests of honor help out with setting the table."  
  
"Harry."  
  
"Hermione."  
  
"Fine, if you insist," I declared, sighing, placing the plates in Harry's hands. Our skin brushed against each other for a moment and I felt a warm sensation envelope me. It was vaguely familiar and reminded me of times when Harry and I had just been best friends and I had yet to realize that I had feelings for him. I pulled my hands away quickly and sat on one of the stools that surrounded the counter.  
  
I sat there, pondering over my luck. Two of the wizarding world's most gorgeous, most available and most talented men were standing before me, in pristine white aprons and cooking *me* dinner.  
  
Me - plain, old, Hermione Granger.  
  
It was a beautiful scene. Ron, the sexy, redheaded Keeper with a fiery determination and the sexy skill to charm the pants off any woman, cooking pumpkin soup and tearing lettuce leaves apart, all the while humming to Gloria Gaynor's *I Will Survive*. Harry, the Boy Who Lived Yet Again turned Seeker, with his boyish charm, piercing emerald green eyes and the sexiest smile that melts women's hearts, slicing a whole baguette into pieces and toasting them, while singing silently along with Ron. And me, Hermione, with my slightly tamed hair, big brown eyes and a big mouth, just sitting there, watching my two best friends suddenly whirl around to face each other and sing:  
  
*Oh not, not I! I will survive! Yeah, as long as I know how to love, I know I'll be alive I've got all my life to live, I've got all my love to give I will survive I will survive Hey, hey!*  
  
I don't know if it bothers you, but there's just something wrong about two, straight men singing "I Will Survive."  
  
Just a thought.  
  
~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
"Are you sure you don't want to stay?" Harry asked me for the millionth time that night. "I could go sleep in the couch. You can have my room."  
  
"I'll be fine, Harry. No one's going to rob me while I'm Apparating."  
  
"It's been a while since you've done it," he pointed out.  
  
I gave him a wilting look. "I did Apparate while I was in Cambridge. I had evening lessons with Professor Asser. Do you actually think I'd walk back to my apartment alone?"  
  
"Didn't David drive you home?"  
  
"He's got shifts at the hospital. I couldn't really bother him. Besides, Apparating doesn't run into traffic or get flats." I placed my hand on top of his. "Stop being such a worrywart, Harry. I'll be fine. If it'll make you feel any better, I'll send Crookshanks over to tell you I'm home."  
  
"Well, I can't have Crookshanks roaming the streets of London at night either. What if he gets run over? I don't even want to think about it. What about if I send Hedwig ahead? She can come back when you're safely home."  
  
I laughed. "Since when did you become my dad, Harry Potter?"  
  
Then, he did something unexpected. He raised his right hand and smoothed my cheek. "I'm just concerned about you, that's all," he whispered. "Hermione?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I was wondering, if you were free tomorrow night, maybe we could go see a movie or something..." he let his voice trail off.  
  
"Oh," I said, stammering a little. "I can't tomorrow. David and I made plans to check out the bridal registry at the Ritz-Carlton..."  
  
"Right, of course," Harry replied, a little too loudly. As if he was trying to scare away something that had been lurking around. "The Ritz-Carlton. That's a pretty fancy place."  
  
"Yeah. I told David it was a bit too pricey but he just gave me that 'Nothing's-too-good-for-you' line." I tried to make it sound like a joke but all I got in response was a sad smile. "I guess I should get going now."  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
"I'll try and send word tomorrow. Thanks so much for today and dinner. I really loved hanging out with you again."  
  
"Yeah," Harry said, trying to smile.  
  
I turned my back to him and Disapparated. 


	6. David

A/N: You guys are wonderful reviewers! Haven't gotten a flamer yet (and I'm hoping I never will). I know you're a little excited to find out who Hermione ends up with, but you'll just have to hang in there a little bit longer. Need your ideas, though. How would you want me to introduce the David-twist? Does Hermione find out for herself or does David tell her? I'd really like to know what you think.  
  
Again, thanks for your reviews. Don't forget to review the next chapters I'm putting up!  
  
DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter characters.  
  
CHAPTER 5:  
  
"So, how did your day go yesterday?" David asked me while we were driving along the streets of London, making our way to the Ritz-Carlton. "You sounded tired last night, I didn't want to press for more information."  
  
"It was great. I met up with some of my old professors and saw Ron's brothers, Fred and George. I think I told you about them once."  
  
"The naughty twins who were in detention every week?" David supplied helpfully.  
  
"Right," I said, laughing. "Fred's got twin daughters now. Then Harry took me to Honeydukes..." I stalled, berating myself for the slip.  
  
"Honeydukes? Can't say I've heard of it."  
  
"Well, it's a really small shop that makes great sweets. Harry and I bought a bagful yesterday..."  
  
"Speaking of Harry," he interrupted, turning a corner. "I don't recall you ever telling me much about him, not like Ron. He seems a likable enough bloke, fairly handsome and he's quite nice, a little reserved, but nice."  
  
"Oh, I think I've mentioned Harry once or twice," I replied. Damn David for being so keen and attentive.  
  
"No, I'm pretty sure you haven't. What? Is he, like, an ex-boyfriend or something?"  
  
"Of course not," I answered a little too quickly. "It's just that, Harry's spent most of his life facing tragedies and such. I didn't think telling you that his parents died when he was just a baby would get you to notice me."  
  
David smiled. "No, I guess that wouldn't work." We turned another corner before pulling up at the driveway of the Ritz-Carlton. He smiled graciously at the valet as he slipped out of the driver's seat and proceeded to open my door for me.  
  
We entered the marvelous, champagne-hued lobby of the hotel where we made our way to the concierge.  
  
"Hello," David greeted the woman behind the marble counter. "David Callaway for registry."  
  
"Yes, Mr. Callaway," the girl smiled warmly, her blue eyes giving David a once-over and liking what she saw. She gave me a sideways glance before stepping out from behind the counter. "My name is Jenna Hall. If you and your girlfriend will follow me, I'll direct you to Franck Everton, one of our registrars. He'll help you make your choices."  
  
We followed her to a white-columned archway, into a fairly large boutique filled with all sorts of sheets and flannel, teapots and other such things. Franck Everton, a nice, balding Frenchman, welcomed us and led us on a short tour of the bridal registry.  
  
"Sheets," Franck was saying as we made our way to the linen section. "Are very important. Rough sheets, too soft, too small, too long - zey all ruin ze moment in one way or another. Color! Color ees also very important in choosing sheets. Color sets ze mood."  
  
I smoothed my fingers over a large, white cotton sheet with a matching down comforter. It reminded me of Harry's sheets.  
  
"I like this color," David said, holding up pale blue sheets. I grimaced. Don't get me wrong, I don't have anything against blue, but *pale blue*? I've outgrown the Baby Spice color ever since I hit adolescence. Unfortunately, David noticed my face. "You don't like it?"  
  
"Not really," I said slowly.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Blue?"  
  
"What's wrong with blue? It's a pretty color - manly, yet feminine enough for you. I thought you'd like it."  
  
"Why don't you look at this?" I suggested, showing him the white sheets. "I like the white better."  
  
This time, David made a face. "But white is so, so...generic." His nose was scrunched up. "It actually reminds me of hospital sheets."  
  
Franck gasped behind us. I don't think comparing Ritz-Carlton sheets to hospital bedsheets agreed with him. Still, I found myself trying to convince my fiancée about the merits of white sheets.  
  
"But they're a pretty white. They remind me of spring, you know - cool, clean, crisp..."  
  
"You can put the both of them down on your list. We don't require you to choose only *one*," Franck suggested. David wasn't entirely convinced yet and asked if we could move to silverware.  
  
"We can return to beddings later, can't we, 'Mione?" he said, putting his arm around me. I nodded, leaving the white sheets behind us. David's probably the only guy who'd choose to pick out silverware first, than beddings.  
  
After a grueling two hours of looking and choosing everything from silverware to china to monogrammed pyjamas, I was happy to get out of the bridal registry. By the way, we ended up choosing the blue sheets. I really didn't want to argue with David. He seemed so excited about the whole thing than I am, and I figured that someone will come along and give me white sheets anyway.  
  
We spent the rest of the day in a lull. David was called back to the hospital, leaving him no choice but to take me with him. I hate hospitals. I suppose it was because I spent a good part of my second year term in the hospital wing, petrified. It's not really an experience you'd like to repeat. I think I've read just about every magazine in the hospital waiting room, watching anxious fathers move to and fro, waiting for any news of their wives, sobbing relatives and noisy little kids, and was just about to start on Popular Mechanics when David emerged in his scrub suit.  
  
"Hey," he greeted me, leaning down to kiss my forehead. I backed away voluntarily, seeing his blood-splattered gloves and suit. I've seen enough blood and gore to last me a lifetime, thank you very much. Fortunately, David didn't seem to notice. "I'll just get out of this and clean up a bit. Then we can go, all right?"  
  
I nodded, turning my head away from the blood. I shivered. The sight of blood never really agreed with me. Of course, being best friends with Harry Potter didn't help either. But I suddenly realized that the sight of the red liquid didn't bother me at all when Harry was around. He's certainly had his fair share of wounds before but he always bore it with a smile. Harry was like that, smiling through the pain, assuring everybody that everything will be all right, even to his own detriment. It's one of those things that made me love him...  
  
/Where did that come from?/ I thought, surprised at what I had just gone on in my head. /You don't love Harry. Not anymore. Well, not more than a friend anyway. You're in love with David now./  
  
/Of course I'm in love with David. I'm marrying him, aren't I?/  
  
"Ready to go?" David asked from behind her, making her jump.  
  
/Didn't Harry say that yesterday?/  
  
/Stop thinking about Harry! Feet up, Hermione. David's waiting./  
  
~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
"I don't know. I keep thinking that I should've bought your mum one of those little cake things they had at the dessert table," David quipped, waiting while I jammed my key to the front door.  
  
I shot him a smile. "My parents are dentists, David. Remember? I don't think they'll even look at a cake." I opened my door and was greeted by a mixture of shock, surprise and an undefinable ache at the pit of my stomach.  
  
Harry was sitting on the couch, beside my dad. They were talking.  
  
They stood up when they saw me, of course. I could see Harry's eyes glaze over David, but softened when those beautiful emeralds rested on me.  
  
/Stop thinking of Harry that way!/  
  
I composed myself and feigned a good-natured surprise. "Harry? What are you doing here?"  
  
"I just dropped by to give your Mum a box of fudge. Mrs. Weasley asked us to give them to you. Ron couldn't make it, he's got practice so I promised him that I'll bring it over. Mrs. Weasley says it's a welcome-back present. There's a note from her inside, I think."  
  
"Oh," I said, a little disappointed, although I had no idea why. "Thank you. It's very nice of you to bring it all the way out here."  
  
"I imagine Mrs. Weasley would hex me and Ron if we didn't bring it over right away," Harry laughed, but froze midway when he realized that he'd just said the word 'hex' in front of David.  
  
David, bless him, took it as a mother-hen joke and extended his hand to Harry. "Mothers are like that, aren't they? I suppose she'd never gotten over the idea of Ron and 'Mione together. Probably still hoping."  
  
"Well, I guess I'd better go then," Harry said, letting go of David's hand with a curious look on his face as he stared at him subtly. "I didn't mean to ruin your evening."  
  
"Ruin the evening? I'm glad you're here, actually," David said.  
  
"You are?" Harry and I both asked at the same time.  
  
"Yeah. Are you and Ron free for dinner on Saturday evening, Harry? I'm just dying to try out that new restaurant by Hyde Park. A colleague of mine recommended it very highly and tells me that there are famous bands playing on weekends. How about it? You and Ron must bring dates, of course. Can't dance without a partner now, eh?"  
  
I couldn't contain my surprise at the invitation. "What? This is the first I've heard about it."  
  
"It's the first of many surprises, darling," David told me, kissing me on the forehead.  
  
"I thought you didn't like surprises," Harry asked, his gaze gripping mine so tightly, I felt like I couldn't move.  
  
"I don't," I answered stubbornly. "David, I don't think we can spring an invitation like this on Harry and Ron."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Yeah, Hermione. Why not?" Harry echoed.  
  
/Why not?/ I thought sullenly. /Think, Herm. Think. You didn't graduate at the top of your class at Cambridge for nothing./  
  
But my mind drew a blank.  
  
"Ron and I will be there. Thank you for the invitation, David," Harry declared, as if to spite me in my helplessness. And he did something I never thought he'd do - he raised his hand and shook David's, sealing the date.  
  
I groaned inwardly.  
  
/Perfect./ 


	7. Back to Hogwarts

A/N: This is going to be a relatively short chapter - I mean, compared to my previous ones. But, mind you, this is a VERY MEANINGFUL chapter. Oh, and before you move on to Chapter 7, may I suggest that you listen to Stephen Speaks' song, "Out Of My League"? Just get a feel of the beat and the message of the song. It's going to carry the whole essence of Chapter 7 across. It's available for listening at mp3.com.  
  
Thanks for the wonderful reviews, everyone!  
  
DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter characters.  
  
CHAPTER 6:  
  
/Hogwarts hasn't changed a bit./  
  
I gingerly stepped out of the horseless carriage that had carried me toward the castle after leaving the Hogwarts Express that morning. The castle stood as magnificent and as grand as ever, with its tall towers with red, green, yellow and blue flags waving from their turrets. Sunlight shone on dappled windows, reflecting a rainbow of colors. Off to the side, I could clearly see the Quidditch Pitch. I've watched Harry and Ron play there many times, watched them fall as well then end up at the hospital wing. I've always wanted to ask Madam Pomfrey if the two of them broke the record for most number of times to be delivered to the hospital wing. They certainly spent enough time there when we attended Hogwarts.  
  
I slowly climbed up the stone steps of the castle, remembering the way I had rushed down them so quickly four years ago. To escape Harry.  
  
/Stop it. I forbid you to think of Harry today./  
  
Speaking of Harry...  
  
I dreaded Saturday. I didn't want it to come. What the heck was going on in David's mind to make him ask Harry and Ron to dinner? I wasn't aware that they'd become buddies all of a sudden.  
  
A part of me argued that David was only trying to be nice, and I appreciate that. I really do. But David usually don't get along that quickly with most guys. He's got lots of female friends, that's for sure. But I've never seen him actually hang out with the guys, like, well, like most guys do. He has colleagues, of course, but they're colleagues. Workmates. They don't even count as friends.  
  
Maybe he thinks he can get along well with Harry and Ron because they *are* my best friends and all.  
  
No time to ponder more on that - Professor Dumbledore met me at the Front Hall.  
  
"Miss Granger," he said slowly, smiling under that white beard. "It's a pleasure to see you again. Milos owled me more than once about your performance in Cambridge. I congratulate you on finishing, once again, at the top of your class."  
  
I shook his hand. The same hand that had fought Voldemort and defeated him once and for all. "It's great to see you, too, Professor. Thank you for your congratulations, but I must thank you for giving me the opportunity to prove myself in the real world."  
  
He smiled at me as he graciously offered his arm for me to take. "Come, we shall tour the castle a bit before we are called to lunch. I dare say, you would like to see Gryffindor Tower once again, and perhaps meet our Head Boy and Head Girl."  
  
~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
Professor Dumbledore treated me like I was Minister of Magic, and even moreso. He allowed me to sit in on one of Professor McGonagall's 7th-year Transfiguration classes, where I was invited to turn into an Animagus - an eagle. In Professor Binns' History class, I broke the stupor by being heartily introduced as a fully-qualified diplomat, which earned a round of questions from the students. Out in the greenhouses, Neville had become an assistant professor to Professor Sprout, who was about to retire next year. He had hugged me instantly when I walked in, earning catcalls and hoots from the students. I didn't bother going down to the dungeons for Potions, or the Astronomy Tower for Divination. There are just some things better left alone.  
  
We strode into the Great Hall, still arm in arm, Professor Dumbledore and I, until we seated ourselves at the staff table. At the next moment, I could feel something brush against my robes and realized that it was Dobby, brandishing a platter of roast turkey and gravy.  
  
"Dobby!" I squealed.  
  
"Miss!" he cried back, balancing the platter precariously on one arm and hugging my leg with the other arm. "You is come back to Hogwarts! You is come back!"  
  
"Only for a visit, though, but I'm awfully glad to see you. How are you doing, Dobby?"  
  
Dobby set down the platter in front of us and stationed himself between our seats. "Very, very well, Miss. Headmaster is giving Dobby a raise now - five whole galleons!" He looked sheepishly at Professor Dumbledore, who was pretending not to listen as he sipped wine from his goblet. "Headmaster is also offering Dobby a paid holiday, but Dobby says no, Miss. It's too much kindness already. But Dobby can buy more socks now, Miss. Look!" and proceeds to display a bright yellow sock with Bludgers hitting each other knitted on them on his left foot and a rainbow-colored, striped sock on his right.  
  
"They're very, er, bright, Dobby. And Winky? How is she?"  
  
"Winky is getting raise from Headmaster as well, Miss. Two galleons, she has now! Winky cried when she had one galleon. Now, she wails at two galleons."  
  
"But she's happy?"  
  
"Yes, Miss. She is getting over her Master Barty long ago. She knows she serves Headmaster now." His big, saucer-shaped eyes brightened. "Has Miss been to see Harry Potter?"  
  
I nodded, and I noticed that Professor Dumbledore's ears perked up a little at hearing his name. "I have. He met me when I first came home."  
  
"Sir was crying when you went away, Miss."  
  
"Crying? Harry was...crying?"  
  
Dobby nodded his head vigorously. "Yes, Miss. I sees him in your old room when you left. Sir was looking for you and didn't see you, then he cried." He jerked so suddenly that I jumped a little, and before I could ask what was wrong, Dobby began to hit himself on the head with the spare platter he had grabbed from the table. "Bad Dobby, spying on Harry Potter! Bad, bad, bad Dobby!"  
  
Someone ought to teach the elves not to hit themselves.  
  
I pulled the platter out of his hands before he could hit himself again. "I'm sure you weren't spying. You just...walked in on him, didn't you? I'm sure you didn't mean it."  
  
From the corner of my eye, I could see Professor Dumbledore's lips curl up into a smile.  
  
"Did - did he say anything?" I pressed, careful not to make Dobby feel as if I'm forcing him to tell on Harry.  
  
"No, Miss. But Sir pulled out a scarf from behind the bed before leaving."  
  
A scarf? I don't recall missing a scarf.  
  
"There's nothing else?"  
  
Dobby shook his head. Well, I got more information than I needed anyway. "Thanks, Dobby. Say hello to Winky for me."  
  
"Yes, Miss." He stares at me with happiness in his eyes before walking away. "Sir must be very happy now that Miss is back," he said before leaving.  
  
I turn back to my original position and stare down at my plate. Harry *cried* when I left? He actually *cried*? As in, with tears falling down his cheeks and everything?  
  
"Harry was very surprised and a little hurt when you decided to leave without saying goodbye, Miss Granger," Professor Dumbledore said quietly, still holding his goblet. I looked up and glanced at the wise, old wizard beside me, wondering how he knew what I was thinking.  
  
He set his goblet down and turned to face me. "Was it your intention to ask me to leave Hogwarts early for you to escape him, or for him to look for you?"  
  
I returned my gaze to my plate, unable to speak.  
  
Professor Dumbledore seemed to notice my brain's tumbled state because he sat upright again. "I understand that you are engaged, Miss Granger. Milos informed me of the good news and tells me that your fiancée is quite a handsome and intelligent young man."  
  
/Familiar ground,/ I thought, feeling relief.  
  
"Yes, sir. His name is David Callaway."  
  
"I imagine that Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley were a bit surprised at your news," he continued, smiling.  
  
Surprised? Shocked was a better way to put it.  
  
"And how did Mr. Callaway react when he found out you were a witch?"  
  
Dead end. "I - I haven't exactly told him yet, sir."  
  
I think he knew the answer to that question even before he asked it. Then...  
  
"Are you sure that you want to marry him?"  
  
"What do you mean, Professor?"  
  
"What do you see when you look into his eyes, Miss Granger? Do you see yourself, reflected as you are now? Or do you see yourself as who you want to be five, ten years from now?"  
  
Professor Dumbledore looks into my eyes. "Do you see love in his eyes? Love, passion, desire and anger? Or do you see only his eyes?"  
  
"If you do, his eyes will tell you nothing."  
  
I don't understand what he is trying to say. But then again, it's not easy trying to figure out what a wise, old wizard is saying.  
  
But what did he mean by that? Do I see love in David's eyes? Well, of course, I do. I mean, there must be something there for me to agree to marry him, right?  
  
Right?  
  
**********  
  
A/N: Just a reminder. You'll appreciate Chapter 7 even more if you listen to Stephen Speaks' "Out Of My League." There's a part in Chapter 7 that I've custom-fit to this song, so if you have an MP3, download it and listen to it as you're reading the next chapter.  
  
Chapter 7 to be posted right after this one (as long as I get favorable Chapter 6 reviews *hint hint*!). 


	8. Dinner, Dance and A Best Man

A/N: Hope you listened to Stephen Speaks' "Out Of My League" like I told you to. Probably my most romantic - and heartbreaking - chapter yet.  
  
DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter characters.  
  
CHAPTER 7:  
  
"I don't think they're coming," I said hopefully, fidgeting the hem of the white tablecloth for the billionth time. David smiled at me, his left arm draped over my seat.  
  
"It's only seven-thirty, 'Mione," he told me, lifting his glass of champagne to his lips. "I wouldn't expect them to be here on the dot."  
  
I tried to smile, but ended up doing a winced expression on my face. Here we were, Saturday night at Thatcher & Atwood's, the newest, live-band restaurant in London - and I was praying fervently to anyone above who was listening to not let Harry and Ron show up.  
  
I don't know why I don't want them to come. I've argued about it in my head since I visited Hogwarts and I've come to the conclusion that it was, perhaps, because I had the sinking feeling that something bad will happen tonight. All right, 'bad' may not be the greatest word for it, but something, well, not nice, is going to happen. I can feel it in my bones.  
  
"There they are!" David exclaimed, waving to them at the front door. I could see nothing but the maitre'd's back and Ron's flaming red hair. *Maybe Harry decided not to come,* I thought. *Maybe he had an emergency Quidditch practice...*  
  
It's just too bad that imagination and reality hadn't gotten together. I saw the maitre'd turn around to lead the new arrivals to our table. Ron was looking quite dashing in a dark blue suit. I had rarely seen him in your usual Muggle clothes and he always wore his dress robes to formal wizarding events. Harry must have told him about Muggle formalwear. And speaking of Harry, he was more than handsome in his black suit that hung to his every asset perfectly. He looked like he just stepped out of a GQ cover. I felt my mouth drop a little as I gave him a once-over, my eyes roving over the straight-cut trousers that showed off a little of his perfect backside, the crisp, forest green, button-down shirt whose two top buttons were sexily undone and the black jacket elegantly draped over his tapered shoulders.  
  
/Nobody,/ I thought with longing. /Nobody should look *that* good. Guys like him should be made illegal./ I felt my thighs tighten involuntarily while I watched him saunter over to us and he brushed his hair back with a free hand.  
  
He just took my breath away and for the slightest moment, I was convinced that I was marrying the wrong guy. Of course, that was before I saw the girl clutching his arm.  
  
/Who the heck is that?/ my brain started to scream. I looked at her - shiny, long, blonde hair, two, violet-blue eyes framed by foot-long eyelashes, a pouty mouth, a sexy body hidden under a cut of pink chiffon fabric that barely qualified as a dress, breasts from here to New Zealand, miles of smooth leg under that 'dress' and finished off with a pair of dainty pink heels. /No way did he meet someone like *that* in the wizarding world. Did he?/  
  
I felt my heart constrict painfully - a feeling that had been familiar to me four years ago. I realized with a pang that the girl was Harry's every fantasy come true.  
  
I closed my eyes to blink back the tears that were forcing their way down my cheeks. /Get a grip on yourself, Hermione. You should be happy for him now that he's found the perfect girl./  
  
"Hey, glad you could make it," I managed to say cheerfully. That was one aspect of me that never changed. I still looked happy even when I was hurting. "Hi," I said, directing the greeting to the girl in question.  
  
"Everyone, this is Elizabeth Wilson," Harry introduced the blonde to David and me. "Elizabeth, this is Hermione Granger, one of my best friends, and her..." he paused, his face taking on a pained look that was gone almost as quickly as it had appeared. "Her fiancée, David Callaway."  
  
Perfect Elizabeth held out one hand for us to shake. "How do you do? Harry's told me so much about you, Hermione."  
  
I gave her a small smile. "I wish I could say the same about you."  
  
"Sit down, sit down," David said, gesturing for the three of them to take their seats. "No date, Ron?"  
  
"No," he answered, shaking his head. "I prefer going stag you know. You never know if you're going to meet a lovely woman - or women - in places like these."  
  
I had to laugh at what Ron said. He's become quite the Casanova since he became Keeper for Gryffindor and got a much-needed ego boost. But I had a hard time trying to pry my eyes away from Harry and his date. She had the cutest little laugh, like the one those girls in society circles had. /Maybe they all went to the same finishing school,/ I thought dismally.  
  
One of Elizabeth's ultra-thin straps slid down her shoulder and I held my breath as Harry rearranged it for her, his fingers brushing her skin. She smiled at him graciously, mouthing a 'Thank you' under her breath. I began to feel old and dowdy in my black dress that I had spent hours at the mall choosing. /Perhaps I was wrong not to choose the red one with the really low neckline./  
  
David was hardly noticing me. He and Ron were talking animatedly, about what? I don't know. Harry was obviously engrossed with his date and I - I was left alone with my thoughts.  
  
/And you could've used with showing some leg, Hermione,/ my brain added as I glanced at the long skirt of my dress. /The red one would have been so perfect./  
  
"Hermione," David said softly, tapping my shoulder and I snapped out of my trance. "What would you like to drink?" It was then that I noticed the waiter standing over me with a smile.  
  
"Scotch," I answered immediately. Damn it, I need something strong. "Straight, please."  
  
The three men at the table looked at me with a mixture of shock, surprise and curiosity. Elizabeth, however, was busy teasing Harry's ear and I glared at her. "I didn't know you drank scotch," David finally spoke after several moments of silence.  
  
"I also drink bourbon and I have tequila shots on occasion," I told him, not really caring about what he'd think of me after this particular revelation. "My liver is deteriorating as we speak," I added, putting in a lighthearted joke. Unfortunately, no one seemed to find it funny.  
  
"But - but you don't drink," Ron pressed in a concerned voice. "What about all those litanies you gave me on how drinking is bad and that I should avoid it like the plague?"  
  
"Well, we all have to eat our words sometime, Ron," I replied smugly. Harry, I could see, wasn't very pleased with my confession but I ignored him. I think I'll leave the champagne-drinking to Little Miss Perfect over there, thank you very much.  
  
When our drinks arrived, I downed mine just as another waiter approached our table to take our food orders. David had asked for the pasta Alfredo, Ron, the filet mignon, Harry took the baked ziti, Elizabeth chose a light salad (surprise, surprise) and I had asked for another round of scotch.  
  
"'Mione, you can't not eat tonight," David told me, smoothing my back. "And you also shouldn't be drinking on an empty stomach."  
  
I patted his hand. "Don't worry about me. I've not eaten on several occasions before. I just feel like drinking tonight."  
  
"Well, at least have some of the pasta," he pressed, lifting a forkful of noodles from his plate and directing them carefully to my mouth. Knowing David, he wouldn't let up until I've taken at least one bite from him so I opened my mouth and let the tasty pasta slide down my throat. He smiled at me, like I was a sick kid in pediatrics who had just taken her yucky medicine. "Didn't that taste good?"  
  
I nodded a little absently, looking over to see what Harry's reaction was to our little feeding session.  
  
None at all. Harry was being fed himself with a forkful of lettuce from Elizabeth's pale salad. Damn. What was taking my scotch so long?  
  
"How about another one, 'Mione?" David asked, ready to twirl his fork again.  
  
I shook my head this time, looking around for the waiter and finding him stationed at the bar. I waved to him and he immediately came over with my scotch. I took the golden liquid from him and slid the whole thing down my throat. Its fire and bitterness burned my throat but I didn't care. I longed for the warm, numbing feeling to take its effect on me, and it didn't take long before it did. Scotch always calmed me somehow.  
  
After dinner, which, by the way, consisted of two glasses of scotch and a forkful of pasta, David stood up and tapped his knife at the side of his wine glass. I looked up at him and he smiled down at me and that's when I knew - the 'something bad' was going to happen now.  
  
"I'm sure you're wondering why I asked all of you out for dinner tonight," David began, grinning. I felt my heart thump loudly inside my chest. "First of all, I would like to thank you both for obliging to come to this special occasion for me and my 'Mione." He paused and I saw Harry glance my way. "Second, I am pleased to say that you two are as wonderful friends as 'Mione's ever told me you'd be." David looked down at me as he said this before taking my hand in his. "Which is why, Ron and Harry, I would like to formally ask you to be the best men at our wedding."  
  
I stared at David with wide eyes, then to Ron and to Harry. /No, no, no! This isn't happening! He didn't just ask what I thought he asked! What is he thinking?/ All the calmness that the scotch had provided me vanished into oblivion and I was left feeling cold, sweaty and nervous. *This* is why I hate surprises!  
  
Ron looked at Harry with probing eyes, searching for an answer. But Harry's emerald eyes remained vacant as he looked at me with an expression on his face that I just couldn't place. David was looking at Ron expectantly. "Well?" he pressed.  
  
"S-Sure," Ron agreed nervously, still looking at Harry's probable reaction.  
  
"Wonderful!" David exclaimed. He shifted his sights on Harry. "What about it, Harry? Hermione would just be thrilled if both of her best friends would be at her wedding."  
  
"Harry..." I whispered, making a move to grasp his hand. "You don't have to do..."  
  
"Yeah," Harry answered, his voice emotionless and his stance rigid. "I'll do it."  
  
"Brilliant! Everything's set with the two of you then." David turned to me and gave me a kiss on the lips. "Aren't you happy, love? Two of the most important people in your life will be there for the most important day of your life. I just knew they wouldn't say no."  
  
I couldn't clearly register what he was trying to say. Everything was a big blur to me now, nothing was clear except the image of Harry leaning back in his seat, refusing to look at me. I know that he thinks it's all my idea, which is the reason why he said yes. And I also know that he probably won't believe me if I said I didn't know anything about it before tonight. But he has to believe me.  
  
He has to...  
  
Before I could say anything, David pulled me to my feet and twirled me around. He was always such a great dancer. In fact, he was a great everything. I could hear the piano chords reverberate in hidden speakers around the room, as David led me to the center of the dance floor.  
  
Here, beside me, is the most perfect man in all of England. The man who wants to marry me and cherish me for the rest of my life. This man treated me like I'm a princess and would give me everything I ask for.  
  
What was wrong with me then? How can I not appreciate a man like this?  
  
He pulled me close to him, our bodies swaying to the light, acoustic rhythm of the music. "Are you happy, my darling?" he asked me softly, his head resting on top of mine.  
  
I nod because it is easier than actually telling him how I *really* feel.  
  
"I'm glad," he replied simply, before leaning down and covering my mouth with his.  
  
* * *  
  
Harry turned his head away from Hermione and David, not bearing to see the two of them do things that he would like to be the one to do to her.  
  
/How did it come to this?/ he thought sullenly, unable to contain himself from looking back at the dancing couple. /How the heck did I agree to be the best man?/  
  
He retraced his thoughts to some two hours ago, when he and Ron had first arrived at Thatcher & Atwood's. Elizabeth Wilson was Sirius' girlfriend, a girl who was at least half his age who worked as a specialist for the Care of Magical Creatures department at the Ministry. He had asked her if she would like to accompany him to dinner that night, in hopes of making Hermione jealous - jealous enough to drag him outside and confess her feelings to him.  
  
Well, at least, that's what he'd been hoping for.  
  
She had agreed, but was a little reluctant. Elizabeth was in favor of what Sirius had told him before - that if he loved Hermione, he'd have the guts to tell her face-to-face. He also warned Harry that bringing Elizabeth might make his plan backfire on him, to which Harry paid no heed.  
  
Upon entering the restaurant, Harry felt himself lose his nerve when he saw Hermione. She couldn't see him where he was standing, or Elizabeth, because the maitre'd and Ron were blocking her view. But he could see her clearly.  
  
She was, still is, the most beautiful woman Harry had ever laid eyes on. The woman of his dreams and fantasies. It almost hurt him to look at her. She looked so innocent, yet seductive in that long, black dress. Her hair was up in a circle of curls behind her head. She wore little make-up, something Harry always found so attractive on her. Just enough to highlight her already bright eyes and to further enhance her soft lips. She epitomized grace and perfection and Harry could feel himself positively melting when she turned to meet his gaze.  
  
He had seen her mouth open a little when she looked at him and he was very pleased that she liked what she saw. He had spent a lot of time trying to decide what to wear tonight, and her appreciation made it all worth it. And when he saw her look at Elizabeth with a cleverly-disguised glare, he thought that his plan was working perfectly. He was even a little happy when she asked for scotch to drink. It meant that she was bothered.  
  
His plan was going perfectly - or so he thought.  
  
It started to go downhill when Hermione ordered her second glass of scotch and refused to eat anything. He wanted her to feel bothered, but not like this. He watched out of the corner of his eye when David gently persuaded her to eat some pasta and felt a deep longing in the pit of his stomach when she had finally agreed. When her lips had closed around the fork and slid it out of her mouth, the longing turned into desire - the exact desire he felt when Hermione had laid herself on his bed. Her lips had consumed his thoughts all week, wondering how they would feel against his, what they would taste like, what sweet moans will come out of them as he kissed her senseless.  
  
Elizabeth had felt his change of mood and owed it to the girl sitting across them. Well, she *was* there to try and make Hermione jealous so, as if on cue, she speared a crouton and a piece of lettuce and fed it to Harry. Not exactly her best move of the night, but it did make Hermione sit up and notice - or more correctly, sit up and *glare* at her again.  
  
She couldn't place her finger on it. What was Hermione doing with this guy - David, was it? - when it's so obvious to her that she's in love with Harry? Don't get her wrong, they've only just met but she *is* a woman, too and she knows the symptoms of true love, having gone through it once before.  
  
And the fiancée unnerved her. There's something very...strange about him. She could sense it, but could hardly say it aloud. Hermione just might pounce on her if she badmouthed her lover.  
  
Elizabeth watched with slight amusement when David got to his feet, champagne flute in hand. Looks like she was going to have a lot to tell Sirius tonight.  
  
Harry looked at Hermione, who, in turn, was looking at David as he stood up. /My God, she's beautiful,/ he thought to himself, taking in the way the soft lighting illuminated her already-perfect features. He observed her carefully, noting the tiny shiver she felt and wishing he could just put his arms around her and make her feel warm for the rest of their lives.  
  
/If only you had gotten to her first.../  
  
/You did get her to her first,/ another part of his brain taunted him. /You were just stupid enough to let her go./  
  
"...Ron and Harry, I would like to formally ask you to be the best men at our wedding!" David announced, grinning cheekily at them both.  
  
His words stung him, like someone had just plunged a knife into his heart and was twisting it mercilessly. He looked at Hermione, hoping for a sign - any sign - that would tell him that he still had hope to make everything all right for them. To love her.  
  
But she had only looked up to David, her eyes closed and Harry thought she was happy that David had decided to be the one to twist the knife in his heart.  
  
He barely heard Ron mutter in agreement and could hardly see straight when David rounded on him to get his confirmation.  
  
"What about you, Harry? Hermione would just be thrilled if both of her best friends would be at her wedding?"  
  
"Harry," she had whispered, brushing her hand over his. "You don't have to do..."  
  
"Yeah," Harry agreed, not wanting to hear what Hermione had to say. Just hearing her speak hurt him. "I'll do it."  
  
Then David had led Hermione out of her seat toward the dance floor where the band was playing the first piano strains.  
  
And, for the first time in four years, Harry felt tears in his eyes as he watched the two of them hold each other close - Hermione's arms around his neck and David's arms around her waist - and sway to the music. The song, it seemed, was made for him and he listened to it, like he never listened to anything like it his whole life:  
  
It's her hair and her eyes today  
  
That just simply take me away  
  
And the feeling that I'm falling further in love makes me shiver, but in a good way  
  
All the times I had sat and stared  
  
As she thoughtfully thumbs through her hair,  
  
When she purses her lips, bats her eyes and she plays with me,  
  
Sitting there, slack-jawed and nothing to say  
  
'Cause I love her with all that I am  
  
And my voice shakes along with my hands  
  
'Cause I'm speechless to say what I'm feeling today  
  
But I'm out of my league once again...  
  
Harry closed his eyes as he felt the music swell and his mind filled with thoughts of him and Hermione - at Hogwarts, spending the summer at Ron's, playing the giant chessboard in their first year, seeing Hermione petrified in their second year, watching her dance with Krum in their fourth...  
  
It's a mistiful melody,  
  
When she calls out my name to me  
  
As the world spins around her,  
  
She laughs, rolls her eyes  
  
And I feel like I'm falling, but it's no surprise  
  
'Cause I love her with all that I am  
  
And my voice shakes along with my hands  
  
'Cause it's frightening to be swimming in this strange sea,  
  
but I'd rather be here than on land  
  
Yeah, she's all that I see and she's all that I need  
  
And I'm out of my league once again...  
  
...the kiss she gave him on the platform at the end of their fourth year, seeing her drop the silver platter that night at the Common Room and turn away...  
  
It's her hair and her eyes today,  
  
That just simply take me away  
  
And the feeling that I'm falling further in love makes me shiver, but in a good way  
  
All the time I had sat and stared  
  
As she thoughtfully thumbs through her hair,  
  
As she purses her lips, bats her eyes and she plays with me,  
  
Sitting there, slack-jawed, and nothing to say...  
  
...Hermione smiling at him, hiding her pain, that day in Hogsmeade, when she had witnessed him kiss another girl by the lake that night before she left him...  
  
'Cause I love her with all that I am  
  
And my voice shakes along with my hands...  
  
...and when she ran away...  
  
'Cause it's frightening to be swimming in this strange sea, but I'd rather be here than on land  
  
Yeah, she's all that I see and she's all that I need  
  
And I'm out of my league once again... 


	9. I'll Say Goodbye, Love

A/N: You fatten my heart with all your reviews. I'm loving each and every one of them and they make me smile after a hard day. Let me just give out some shout-outs to several reviewers who have caught my eye...  
  
thefly: You've been reviewing since chapter 1 and I totally appreciate your comments. Thanks so much.  
  
Annison Crane: I'm not telling you if it's going to be David and Hermione *or* Harry and Hermione - you'll just have to wait and see. I liked it when you said you'll end up as a "sobbing puddle on the floor." It touched me. ( I hope you like my next chapters as much as you did in the previous ones. I hope to hear from you soon.  
  
Shellz: Wasn't the song beautiful? Didn't it make you tear up even the tiniest bit? ( I'm glad you listened to it. It just carried the Harry's thoughts across.  
  
Nighttime Sunshine: Yes, I intend to make you (and everyone else cry). And not only that, I also plan on making your hearts wrench a little as I go along. Thank you for saying that I'm doing a good job on this. It means a lot.  
  
There you go. On with the story...  
  
DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter characters.  
  
CHAPTER 8:  
  
Harry couldn't sleep. He and Ron had went home an hour and a half ago, the minute David and Hermione returned from their dancing. It was all too much for him, seeing them move together in perfect synchronicity, as if they were made for each other.  
  
Harry wanted *her* to be made for him.  
  
*How would you guys like to go to a dance club?* David had asked, once they had returned from the dance floor. *I know this really great place near here...*  
  
Harry was quick to decline, shooting Ron a "Let's-go-home" look. He hadn't looked at Hermione at all, even when they bade farewell - and it bothered him. They had taken Elizabeth back to Sirius' place before they went home. Ron hadn't said much during their whole trip, not that they could talk about a lot of things while Apparating, but he kept his polite distance from Harry.  
  
He knew his best friend was hurting and was trying to hide it. What confused him was Hermione. How could she agree to making the two of them the best men at her wedding? Did she think it would put everything right if she had offered them (or Harry, especially) one of the most coveted spots in a wedding ceremony?  
  
Ron scratched the back of his head and sighed. He didn't really believe that Hermione would have come up with this all by herself. She wasn't over Harry yet, he could tell as much. He always thought that David only provided her with a slight distraction before she admits her real feelings to the man she *truly* loves. Unfortunately, Harry didn't think in the same lines as he did.  
  
/It's only 11,/ Harry thought dismally, craning his neck from the pillow to glance at the clock. /They're probably still out. David looks like he's got a lot of spring in his steps./ He set his head back down and willed himself to go to sleep - but he couldn't. The song kept on resonating in his head and he couldn't help but stray into the memories that had forced their way into his mind tonight.  
  
He lifted his head up again and glanced at the clock, which now read 11:02. Damn. He was getting nowhere.  
  
With renewed resolve, Harry got out of bed and put on the forest green, button-down shirt he had thrown on the floor in a fit of anxiety and regret. He didn't even bother to tuck it inside his trousers as he walked out of his room and made a beeline for his coat.  
  
"Going somewhere?" Ron asked out of nowhere, making Harry jump at his voice.  
  
He already had one arm inside the black coat. "Hermione's."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I just...want to see if she got home safely." That, he had to admit, was pretty lame - even for him.  
  
Ron seemed to think so, too. He raised one brow. "They could still be out. What are you going to do there until they get back?"  
  
Harry didn't answer. His other arm snaked its way inside the coat and was grasping the handle of the front door.  
  
"Take care, then," Ron said with a finality that surprised Harry. But before he could say anything to him, Ron had already entered his room and locked his door.  
  
/Well, that was pretty easy,/ he thought to himself, stepping out of the flat.  
  
~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
David stood next to me as I fumbled with my house keys. I was still feeling a little flushed from all the dancing we had done at the 40's inspired nightclub downtown. David was a terrific dancer and you could just imagine how many beautiful women he had danced with, besides myself. I wasn't much of a dancer but he was kind enough to teach me, even though I knew I was hopeless.  
  
"Have I told you how beautiful you looked tonight?" David whispered, leaning next to my ear.  
  
I stopped my hands and raised my face to meet his gaze. "No," I mumbled.  
  
"You're beautiful."  
  
David leaned even lower and I felt his lips brush mine ever so gently. He always kissed me gently, like I was made of porcelain, and was afraid that if he pressed me too hard I might break. He pulled away slowly and I opened my eyes to find myself staring deep into his green ones - and thinking of Harry.  
  
Without a coherent thought in my head, I put my arm around his neck and pulled him closer to me to give him another kiss. It was amazing - it was still soft, but amazing. My mind was doing incredible things, making me think that I was *actually* kissing Harry that I imagined that it was *his* face so close to mine, *his* mouth on my mouth, *his* tongue searching mine...  
  
"Why don't we go upstairs?" I asked breathlessly, pulling away for the slightest second then closing my mouth on his again.  
  
I didn't even wait for him to answer me. Miraculously, my free hand jammed the right key into the lock and we stumbled in, our mouths still locked together. I led him upstairs, to my room, by my mouth and my warm hand on his chest. He was groaning, trying to say something, but I wouldn't let him. His back slammed into the wall, turning my lights on. The sudden brightness didn't faze me and I continued with the dance that had my tongue searching hungrily for his.  
  
"Oh my...," I heard him mutter. "Hermione..."  
  
/Harry.../  
  
We fell onto my bed, my body on top of his. I was ready to do this.  
  
* * *  
  
Harry stopped walking when he heard two voices whispering in the dark. He hid behind an overgrown hedge, thankful that the Grangers' green-thumbed neighbor didn't trim it down. He peeked through the branches and leaves and made out two figures - David and Hermione.  
  
"You're beautiful," he heard him tell her, before he leaned over her and David blocked his view.  
  
But Harry was well aware of what he was doing and he felt his hands ball into fists beside him. It took every ounce of will he had to prevent himself from jumping out and yelling that *he* should be the one kissing Hermione, *he* should be the one she was staring at...  
  
Staring at?  
  
Hermione shifted her body to one side so Harry could see her every movement clearly. Her deep brown eyes that had him drunk just by looking into them were now staring straight into David's, full of love and passion. Harry held his breath as her arm found its way on David's neck and she pulled him close to her for another kiss. A kiss that, even Harry had to admit, took his breath away. And if he thought that Hermione initiating the kiss was surprising, he couldn't believe it when he heard what she said next.  
  
"Why don't we go upstairs?"  
  
All at once, Harry felt his heart plummet to the ground and break into several million tiny splinters that found their way to every fiber of his being, paining him with every breath and every movement that he took. He would never, in a million years, ever have thought that Hermione would ask any guy to come up to her room. She always complained that he and Ron were always inviting themselves in her room while they were at Hogwarts and had a conniption when they refused to leave just to spite her.  
  
But she wasn't doing this to spite him. She didn't even know he was watching them as they stumbled clumsily over the door then close it behind them. Harry emerged from his hiding place and positioned himself in the middle of the street, where he could see through the window on the left side of the house - Hermione's room. And it struck him that he had stood on this same spot just last week, when Mr. Granger had told him that she was finally coming home. He'd had so much hope then, thinking that he and Hermione will be together at last...  
  
The light flickered on and Harry could make out the blurry image of David and Hermione, still kissing each other, when she turned him around so she faced the other side of the room and pushed him down. She followed him there.  
  
Harry's last remaining embers of hope died. He didn't need to see this. He'd already lost the woman of his dreams twice - and he never even had her to begin with. 


	10. Harsh Words and Heart Breaks

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter characters.  
  
CHAPTER 9:  
  
"Hermione, we...can't...do this."  
  
He pushed me off of him and I was dealt with a mental blow. I raised my head to meet David, as he stood up to rebutton his shirt and take his jacket from the floor. I felt so ashamed. I had used him. I was ready to lose myself to him while thinking all along that he was Harry. It was unfair to him and I had to explain.  
  
"David, I..."  
  
He put his fingers on my lips to stop me from saying anything. "I think we overdid it a little tonight, Hermione. Don't worry, I promise we'll have lots of time to do it after we get married. But for now, let's just leave it like this." David smiled as he planted a gentle kiss on my forehead. "It's late and I have to meet with a colleague early tomorrow. I should really get going."  
  
/How can he think about meetings after what had almost happened between us?/ my mind wondered, looking at his well-built frame as he exited my room. Sometimes I think David cares more about his work than he does about me, but I didn't say anything. Doctors hardly own their time after all.  
  
I straightened my sheets and shrugged out of my dress. I saw my reflection in the mirror and thought that I did look like as if I thoroughly enjoyed every moment of it. My eyes were bright, my cheeks were spotted pink and my lips were kiss-swollen and red.  
  
Of course, I'd also pretended that it was Harry that I was kissing...  
  
And speaking of Harry, I knew I had to talk to him about what happened tonight. The best man thing (what were you thinking?). He seemed so forced, so...laconic when he had agreed to it that I was afraid that he really could be thinking that it was my idea.  
  
/No time to think about that tonight. Why don't you just go see him tomorrow?/  
  
/Not a bad idea,/ I replied to my own thoughts as I entered the bathroom.  
  
~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
"What do you mean he's not here?" I asked Ron, standing outside their flat the next afternoon, my hands crossed over my chest.  
  
"It means what it means. Harry's not here." Ron sighed petulantly. "He's at the Cannons' training pitch."  
  
"I thought he didn't have practice on Sundays?"  
  
"He doesn't. But he needed to blow off some steam. He was getting pretty irritating after coming home last night."  
  
"What?" I sneered. "Wasn't Elizabeth up to his standards?" I knew it sounded cruel but I couldn't resist taking a shot at her.  
  
Ron winced. "Elizabeth is Sirius' girlfriend, Hermione. Harry just brought her along to..." He cut himself off, unsure if he should be the one to spill Harry's feelings to her.  
  
"To what, Ron?" I asked hopefully.  
  
"Look, if you want to talk to Harry, why don't you go see him at the Pitch? He's probably still there. Do you need me to come with you?"  
  
"No," I replied, shaking my head. If he didn't want to help, fine with me. I could find Harry on my own. And it's better that Ron's not around to watch.  
  
~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
I found Harry beating the hell out of the Bludgers with one of the Cannons' specially-made clubs. His face was furrowed with concentration, and he was all sweaty and hot - and I'd never seen a sexier sight. But I didn't come here to ogle him...  
  
"If being a Seeker doesn't work out, you could become an excellent Beater," I said, popping up with a smile from behind one of the orange-draped stands.  
  
Harry only glanced at me, his face expressionless and didn't even mutter a greeting. I could sense that he was a little angry at me for last night.  
  
"Could I bother you for a moment, or should I let you finish beating up the Bludgers?" I asked light-heartedly, trying to set a different mood, to no avail. Harry didn't even flinch.  
  
"Harry, are you mad at me?"  
  
That got him to notice me a little bit. "Why should I be mad at you?" he asked in a cold drawl that reminded me of Malfoy.  
  
"Well, you certainly look like you are and I'd like to explain..."  
  
"There's nothing to explain."  
  
I blinked. Who was this guy talking to me? Certainly not Harry Potter. Even if Harry was truly mad at me, he would never, ever resort to treating me like this - like I was nobody. Would he?  
  
I tried again. "I want to explain about what happened last night."  
  
Harry beat an oncoming Bludger so forcefully I was surprised it didn't blow up into tiny bits of charmed leather. "Why? Did something happen last night?"  
  
"When David asked you and Ron to be the...best men...at the wedding, you sounded so curt, I was worried..."  
  
"I said yes, didn't I?" He slammed the club into another Bludger, setting it off in a spin to the far side of the Pitch.  
  
"Yes, but I don't want you to feel as if you're being forced into it." My eyes studied him in his new light. *This* man standing in front of me was definitely not Harry. Harry would look me straight in the face even if he's angry with me. He wouldn't just turn his back to me. He's too good for that.  
  
"Look, I said yes, okay?" he snapped, turning to face me. "It doesn't matter how I said it, as long as I agreed to it. It's not like I had a choice." Harry resumed his original position and beat consequent Bludger attempts to strike him.  
  
"You could have said no," I said quietly. I was scared of him now.  
  
"I can't."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because I can't do that! You wanted this, didn't you? You'd be so happy if your two best friends would be right by your side on the happiest day of your life. Ron agreed. It seems quite unfair to him if I leave this burden on his shoulders." Harry was yelling now as he faced me again, the Bludgers nowhere to be seen. "Let's just drop this, okay."  
  
"I didn't want this, Harry." Tears began to well in my eyes. "I was surprised, too. I'd never thought that David would actually do this..."  
  
"Where *is* David?" he asked coolly. "He's probably still a little dazed after that post-dance invitation you gave him."  
  
My ears perked up when he said those words. "What did you say?"  
  
"You were probably so happy that David did all the dirty work for you last night that you wanted to reward him."  
  
Did he see us last night? Was he wearing his invisibility cloak and was in my room the whole time? But it didn't explain why he was still being so hostile. David and I didn't do anything.  
  
"Were you spying on me last night?" I asked, my breathing heavy.  
  
"You know, I never would have thought that you'd be the type of girl who just invites random guys up to her room for a post-date nooky," he continued, his voice still cold.  
  
"Stop it," I whispered. Why was he doing this?  
  
"But then again, a lot has happened in four years. Tell me, what exactly *have* you been doing at Cambridge? I don't think you were studying all the time, were you? Maybe that's how you got David to notice you - the perennial student with something to hide underneath her skirt..."  
  
I slapped him before I could even think of stopping myself. Was that what he thought of me all along? That I was some flirt who pretended to be a bookworm to seduce men? I had read somewhere that one of guys' favorite fantasies was of a hot, gorgeous librarian who needed to be shown something that was 'not in the books.' Did Harry think of me like that?  
  
"I am not a slut," I said in a low voice, tears streaming down my face. Harry looked at me with genuine surprise but I ignored it. "I don't screw men for the fun of it. I'm not a whore and I'm sorry if you thought that I was one." My voice got louder. "You didn't do a good job spying on me, Harry, because last night *nothing* happened between me and David. *Nothing.* He pulled away before we could even start so I apologize if it destroys your view of me."  
  
I blinked several times before continuing, cursing myself for crying. "And just so you know, I did not seduce David. He asked me to go out first. He was the one who approached me first. I know this is hard for you to fathom considering your obviously low view of me, but that's what really happened. And he's marrying me because he doesn't think I'm a slut. Because unlike you, he thinks I'm actually worth some love."  
  
His face remained expressionless, but it softened a little. I had stopped my tears from falling and was trying to regain my composure.  
  
"Do me a favor, Harry. Just get out of my life."  
  
***************  
  
A/N: I apologize for Harry's nastiness but my plot goes that way. This is one of the more climactic scenes and I can't not put it in because it connects with the next two chapters. Keep in mind that this scene happens on Sunday afternoon. The next chapter happens on Sunday evening and the next one after that happens on Monday early morning. I've already decided on who Hermione is going to end up with and how it's going to happen - but you guys just have to keep reviewing before I put up the next chapters (hint, hint).  
  
Can't wait to hear what you guys thought of this. Review please! ( 


	11. Discovering David

A/N: Okay, my friends, don't go into conniptions over the whole "Harry- Hermione-David" love triangle just yet. I've told you that I've already worked everything out so you all just have to wait for it - - - kinda like HP and the Order of the Phoenix. At least I have you coming back, right? :)  
  
More shout-outs first...  
  
mmRosalez: You are so completely right! MEN!!!  
  
Shellz: You've been very observant so far so I'll let you in on a little secret...this is the chapter where I show you the 'something strange about David' I've been talking about.  
  
mystical: I'm so in love with Ron (Rupert Grint)! Which is why I just can't bring myself to write a Ron/Hermione story. :) Anyway, I haven't heard from you in a while so your review is a pleasant surprise. I know I've been updating fast these days but my mind is in overdrive. It's just how it is when you're a film student with lots of creative juices flowing through your brain from morning till night. :)  
  
Nighttime Sunshine: Here's the bright, happy moment you asked for. There's a tad bit of angst in there but not as much as I placed in my other chapters. Don't believe in overkill, sorry. Besides, I'm trying to make your hearts wrench, remember? But be forewarned, this chapter is far from being a redemptive one. At least, not soon.  
  
Just a reminder, this chapter occurs on Sunday evening, just a couple of hours after Hermione left Harry at the Pitch. Let's time it at around eight in the evening.  
  
On with the story...  
  
DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter characters.  
  
CHAPTER 10:  
  
I sat stoically in a corner booth of a cheesy little diner in London, a few metres away from the Leaky Cauldron...and Harry. Diners appeal to me, I don't know why, but they do. They've got such a homey and secluded feel to them that I feel comfortable in - and this particular diner is my refuge from my confrontation with Harry.  
  
His words kept reverberating in my head, taunting me, laughing at me.  
  
*The perennial student who had something to hide underneath her skirt.....*  
  
*You were probably so happy that David did all the dirty work for you last night that you decided to reward him...*  
  
*Tell me, what exactly have you been doing at Cambrige? I don't think you were studying all the time, were you?*  
  
In our eleven years of friendship, it all comes out. Harry thought of me as nothing more than a tease who used books to make men notice me, to seduce them. I knew I wasn't supermodel status, nor would I actually have the chance to win in beauty contests but I thought that I was beautiful enough to get decent dates once in a while. But Harry negated all those. Evidently, I wasn't beautiful enough to make other people believe that men like him and David would actually *want* me. Or, in David's case, actually want to *marry* me.  
  
A solitary tear coursed down my cheek and I brushed it off hastily. I shouldn't be crying over that. What does it matter what Harry tells me? I'm getting married to a fantastic man who also happens to be a doctor and wants to take care of me for the rest of our lives.  
  
"You okay, hon?" the youngish-looking, blonde waitress asked me, her tray under her arm. She handed me a small packet of Kleenex. "Looks like you've been dumped."  
  
I took the Kleenex from her and pulled out a sheet before giving it back. "No, hon, keep it," the waitress, whose ID said Mildred, told me as she slid into the opposite chair of the booth. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Nothing," I mumbled in reply.  
  
"It's not nothing if you're drowning yourself in coffee every five minutes," she said consolingly that I just had to smile. "People usually flush out their worries with scotch or bourbon."  
  
"I've had enough of scotch," I replied, thinking of last night.  
  
"Man problems?"  
  
I nodded.  
  
"Did you catch him cheatin' on you or somethin' like that?"  
  
"No. He just wasn't the man I thought he was."  
  
Mildred smiled. "Honey, no man is ever who they say they are. That's why they're filthy, lyin' scum the lot of them. That's what makes 'em men."  
  
"But - but its different with this one, you know," I found myself opening up to her. "We've been best friends since we were eleven and he's saved my life more than once. He's smart and kind and considerate and loyal..."  
  
Hardly loyal.  
  
I took a deep breath. "I'm getting married to someone else," I said flatly.  
  
"But you love this best friend?"  
  
"I do. At least, I thought I did. I don't know, I'm so confused. He just told me that he thought that the man I'm going to marry only wants to marry me because I seduced him in the first place."  
  
"Did you?"  
  
"No!" I exclaimed, appalled. "I would never seduce a man. I don't even try to entertain thoughts of seducing men. But he thought I did and he said so to my face."  
  
Mildred gasped. "He didn't!"  
  
"He did. And he started saying that I must have put on a bookworm act for him to make him notice me, like those fantasies they publish in Penthouse and Playboy? That I was only out in the library to meet men." I could feel my tears threatening to push their way out of my eyes again.  
  
"Oh, hon. What did you do?"  
  
"I slapped him."  
  
"Well, good for you. He shouldn't be allowed to get away with saying things like that."  
  
"Oh, but I feel awful about it, but I hate him as well. I just never would have thought..."  
  
Mildred patted my hand in a concerned fashion and I appreciated her presence. It felt good to talk to someone sympathetic, albeit a stranger.  
  
I stared at the silver band on my ring finger and twisted it around. An engagement ring. Works almost like a binding charm, but it's guilt-ridden. Take it off and you're being unfaithful. Wear it when you don't want to and you're being unfair.  
  
"Do you love him?" Mildred asked.  
  
I raised my head to meet her eyes. "Of course I do. Harry's the first man I've ever loved and I told him so, but he didn't do anything about it. I guess he just..."  
  
"I meant the man who gave you that ring," she interrupted and I felt my cheeks burn.  
  
Mildred looked at me with knowing eyes and a dimpled smile. "You're taking an awful long time to answer," she quipped.  
  
"Well, I was...surprised and - "  
  
"I asked you the same question before but your thoughts immediately jumped to this Harry fellow. I presume he is the best friend." I nodded. "Then," she added, tapping my engagement ring with a long finger. "Why are you wearing that?"  
  
I stared at her in surprise. Why *was* I wearing this?  
  
/Because you want to get married to David./  
  
/No, you don't. Not yet, at least./  
  
/Don't I?/  
  
"You don't," Mildred snuck in between my thoughts, as if reading my mind. "Shall I pour you more coffee or are you going to run out of here and do something?"  
  
I collected my purse and paid for the cups of coffee I had before making my way to the exit. "Thank you," I told Mildred, holding her hand in grateful appreciation.  
  
"You just make sure you marry the right guy. It's no use loving someone if you can't end up with them, eh?"  
  
~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
Nine in the evening and I was still searching the streets for any sign of David. I checked with the inn he was staying in and they'd told me that he had went out early in the morning and hasn't returned yet. I called the hospital and they told me that David was off today. Then I checked every restaurant in town - he did say that he had to meet a colleague today, didn't he?  
  
I stopped the car when the traffic light turned red, just as I was about to enter the red-light district, the sleazy part of town. Well, I had to search everywhere. Perhaps his colleague was one of those big, fat-bellied expatriates who preferred a lap dance to to the theater. My eyes were trying not to come into contact with any of the milling prostitutes - male and female - who were displaying their 'wares' on the sidewalk. Just beyond the intersection, a group of about six people emerged from a hole-in-the- wall club and I realized with a sickening jolt that I recognized one of them.  
  
David.  
  
Kissing another man.  
  
I was rendered speechless by this blatant display of affection, watching disgustedly as David pulled the other man close to him, his strong arms encircling his waist. The other people around them cheered them on and neither of them was trying to pull away, unlike what he did to me last night.  
  
A sharp beep startled me out of my trance and I saw that light had already turned greed and that I was causing traffic. I rounded the corner and parked the car in a clearly-marked tow away zone, not caring what the consequences will be. The next few moments happened in a blur - I got out of the car, stalked angrily over to him and threw his ring at his back.  
  
"You bastard!" I cried angrily, hurling the ring to him. "You lying, cheating bastard! How could you do this to me? How could you?" Tears streamed down my face for the second time today and I hardly cared when people on the sidewalk and on the streets looked at me. "Who the hell are *you*?" I yelled, pushing the other guy away as David struggled to hold me back. "Who the hell are you!? Don't you know that this is *my* fiancée?"  
  
The other guy stumbled and fell to the sidewalk and David let go of me to help him up. I watched with growing revulsion as he picked the fallen guy up, helping him get on his feet.  
  
"Keep your stupid ring!" I yelled at David, backing away toward my car. "I don't need you or anything else from you! Just stay away from me!"  
  
"Hermione!" he called after me. I could hear his footsteps trail behind me as I opened my car door and locked it.  
  
"Hermione, please, let me explain," David pleaded, knocking on my window and trying to open the door handle. "Come on, let's talk about this. Hermione..."  
  
*There's nothing to explain...* Harry's words resonated in my brain as I sped home.  
  
***************  
  
A/N: I can actually hear the people murmuring, "Yes! Now it leaves the path clear for Harry and Hermione!" But, like I told you before, this is hardly a redemptive chapter - not yet. And the next one won't be either. But it's coming, it's coming.  
  
Now all you have to think about is whether I'll actually make Harry and Hermione end up together. :) R/R! 


	12. When No Tears Fell

A/N: This chapter happens at around 1 in the morning, Monday.  
  
DISCLAIMER: J.K.Rowling owns the Harry Potter characters.  
  
CHAPTER 11:  
  
"I don't understand, Ron," I whispered, sobbing. "How could I have not known that David was *gay*?"  
  
We were sitting on one of Puddlemere's bleachers, our cloaks warding off the early morning chill. I had written Ron a message to meet me at the Training Pitch and carried it to him as an eagle. He recognized me in my Animagus form as I tapped my beak lightly on the window pane and immediately got on his broom to meet me there. I didn't want to risk Apparating and letting Harry see me. Seeing him, after all he's said to me that afternoon, would be like rubbing salt to my wounds.  
  
I tried to recount the conversation David and I had before I left for the flat, for Ron's sake. He had followed me home, pushing his way between my parents, especially my dad, who wouldn't let him in. But I was hovering near the stairs and I just would *love* to hear his side of the story.  
  
*Flashback*  
  
"Let him through, Dad," I said flatly, my arms crossed over my chest as I watched David struggle to get past my father.  
  
"No," Dad said stubbornly, still fending him off.  
  
"Just let him through. He owes me an explanation." I step down from the stairs and walk over to the couch, where I sat down. Dad was still a bit apprehensive but stopped blocking David's way. Instead he just stood there, his eyes flashing murder and watching him so intently that I'd swear he was trying to curse David.  
  
"A little privacy would be nice," I told him, giving him my "Please-just- leave, I-can-handle-this" Look. Dad knows better than to disagree with me and grudgingly trudged upstairs with Mum, leaving me alone with my gay ex- fiancée.  
  
"What's his name?" I asked David after a few moments of uncomfortable silence. He looked at me with surprise clear in his eyes as he opened his mouth.  
  
"Christian," he croaked.  
  
"And how long have you and Christian been together?" My voice was as cold and as emotionless as Harry's was this afternoon.  
  
"About a year now."  
  
"And were you planning on telling me that I was engaged to a homosexual?" I said harshly, making him cringe as I stared at him with fire in my eyes.  
  
"I was going to tell you, Hermione, honest. I just couldn't..."  
  
"Find the right time? How about *before* you proposed to me? Were you planning to tell me before we got married?"  
  
"I was, but I didn't think that you'd understand."  
  
"The hell I couldn't!" I exclaimed. "So, what was all this? Was this a charade? Were you planning on leaving me at the altar on our wedding day? And all that shit about asking Ron and Harry to be the best men! Maybe you fancied them, too!"  
  
I breathed heavily, feeling anger boil inside me. I was wrong about two men in the same day. It was just too much. The one sitting in front of me was a dream-turned-nightmare, the other was a vague fantasy of something I could never have.  
  
"I'm gay, Hermione," David suddenly whispered.  
  
"That's a surprise," I muttered darkly.  
  
"No," he said, holding me by the shoulders to face him. "You have to listen. I've been seeing Christian around almost the same time that I had asked you out. We were in med school together. I haven't realized what I was then, and I found you very attractive so I asked you for coffee. While you and I got closer and began dating each other exclusively, Christian and I were assigned to be partners in lab and he was a great study buddy."  
  
"I'll bet."  
  
David's cheeks coloured but continued. "I had entertained the thought of possibly being gay in your third year. You were very busy with student government and your extra credit that I found myself being invariably drawn to Christian more and more, until I finally admitted it to myself. But I know I can't end up with him, Hermione. My father would disown me and my whole family will repudiate me. But I battled with my feelings for so long. Christian understood what I was going through, his family would do the same to him if they'd found out that he was with me. So before term ended this year..."  
  
"You proposed to me to save your arse from your parents," I finished for him. "You *used* me."  
  
"I might as well have *used* you. But haven't you ever wondered why I would pull away quickly when I kissed you? Haven't you thought about why I didn't make love to you despite the fact that we could have so many times over?"  
  
"Well, excuse me for still thinking that there are still some chivalrous gentlemen in this day and age," I snapped.  
  
He smiled painfully. "I love you, Hermione - - - but I'm in love with Christian. I thought that I could pull it off, if I could marry you and continue my affair with the man I love. But you're too smart, Hermione. You will find out sooner or later - and you have."  
  
"Leave, David," I whispered sullenly. "Leave."  
  
"Hermione..."  
  
"Don't try to contact me or try to rekindle what we had. We didn't have anything. You can have your lover for all I care. I just don't want to see you again." I stood up and made my way upstairs, hearing David shuffle for the door and close it behind him.  
  
*End of Flashback*  
  
Ron put his arm around me, his other hand smoothing circles on my back to calm me. "Ssh...it's okay. You didn't know and he was a prick not to tell you when he should have."  
  
I buried my head in Ron's chest, sobbing and heaving great sighs. "He made me believe that he loved me and now he's telling me that he was planning to lie to me even until after we were married just so he could be with the one he really loves." I let out a deep breath. "And it's not even me!" I wailed.  
  
Ron continued to smooth calming circles on my back. "You're not planning to run away again, are you?" he joked lightly.  
  
I managed a smile. "No. Surprisingly enough, I'm not sorry that David left me. What hurts me is that he left me for a *man*! A man, Ron! Like you!"  
  
Ron made a face. "That doesn't exactly elicit the nicest image, Hermione."  
  
I lightly hit his arm. "Do you know how insulting it was? I was standing there in the middle of the street, yelling at my ex-fiancée because he was dumping me for a man!" I felt my words sink into my subconscious, "I guess Harry was right, then," I mumbled softly.  
  
Ron's hand stopped and I felt him jerk upright. "Harry was right about what?" he asked, making me look into his deep blue eyes. "What did Harry say?"  
  
I looked away as memories of that afternoon forced themselves in my mind. "That the only reason David was attracted to me was because I seduced him. He could be right, you know. I mean, my unconscious psyche might have emanated seductive auras to other psyches..."  
  
"Spare me the psychobabble, Hermione. Harry said you seduced David?" Ron asked angrily, his blue eyes flashing, reminding me of Dad's eyes earlier that evening.  
  
"Can't say I blame him now, can I? Perhaps he's right. My whole studious self could just be a front for desperation..."  
  
"Let's go," Ron said urgently, pulling me to my feet.  
  
"Where are we going?"  
  
"Back to the flat."  
  
"I can't!" I cried, pulling my hand from his grasp. "What if Harry's there?"  
  
"Good."  
  
"What do you mean 'good'? Don't you know if he's there or not?"  
  
Ron gripped his broomstick tightly, and grabbed my by my hand again. "He hasn't come back since he left for the Pitch. If he's home by now, then I wouldn't have to go look for him." He pulled me onto his broomstick, positioning my body in front of his, as he kicked off into the air and flew speedily back to the flat.  
  
"What are you planning to do, Ron Weasley?" I asked him loudly over the whoosh of the cold morning air over our faces.  
  
"Kick his arse and knock some sense into the git," he answered, his face as serious as stone.  
  
"Beat him up?" I declared unbelievingly. "Ron, don't."  
  
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't."  
  
I spotted the brick establishment where their flat was situated out of the corner of my eye. "You can't risk your friendship with him just because of me, Ron. Besides, I already told you that I think he's right in saying what he said."  
  
Ron landed the broom smoothly on the pavement and I gingerly climbed off. Then he gripped me by the arm and pulled me inside.  
  
"Ron, don't be daft. You don't have to beat Harry up for me."  
  
"Yes, I do. Why do you keep defending him?" We stopped at the topmost floor, just beyond their front door. "You're hurting, Hermione. I can see it in your eyes. And he's the one hurting you and you just stand there and take it. At dinner the other day, Harry brought Elizabeth with him to make you jealous. I was against it, she was against it, Sirius was against it but he wanted to do it, hoping that he could make you leave David for him. He's purposely hurting you and you just take it. But he didn't have the right to say that you would seduce a man for selfish reasons. He should know you better. He should get his act together and tell you that he loves you!"  
  
I froze at Ron's final words. "What do you mean? Harry loves..."  
  
"You. He loves you, ever since we were at Hogwarts, ever since you left. But David was in the picture when you returned and he lost some of his resolve to tell you and decided to make you jealous instead. Sometimes I could just smack that boy in the head. And I could do that now, are you coming?" I shook my head and Ron just shrugged, leaving me standing alone in the hall as he threw open the door and marched directly to Harry's room.  
  
As if I could just stay there, listening as Ron pummeled Harry senseless. I quickly ran inside and made a beeline for his room, not noticing that Ron was actually standing, mouth agape, a good two feet from the slightly ajar door.  
  
"Ron - " I exclaimed, pushing the door open and gasping at the scene that greeted me.  
  
Harry was lying prostrate on his bed, a tangle of those soft, white sheets around his naked body. On top of him was a woman whom I recognized as Blaise Zabini.  
  
She was moving up and down, straddling him between her legs, her perfect hair cascading down her back and brushing Harry's skin. He was moaning, his face contorted with the feeling of exquisite pleasure, his hands holding onto her breasts to support her. She was leaning forward and clutching Harry's shoulders, bracing herself for a quickening pace when I had interrupted them.  
  
Blaise turned her head toward mine, stopped what she was doing and threw me a triumphant smile before leaning down even further and licking Harry's chest.  
  
"Why did you...Hermione!" Harry cried in surprise, almost forgetting that Blaise was on top of him as he struggled to sit up.  
  
I backed away slowly, my eyes clouding. "I - I'm sorry, I didn't mean to barge in like this," I mumbled shakily, backing away one step at a time. "I was just looking for...something." I dropped my eyes to the floor, unable to see him in this position.  
  
"Hermione, wait," Harry was saying. "Please, it's not what you think..."  
  
"Oh, no, don't bother getting up, Harry," I added quickly. "I can see you're, um, busy. So you just keep doing...whatever it was you were doing. I'll just show myself out. I'm glad our talk this afternoon didn't affect you at all. And, well, I'd like to apologize for slapping you. I didn't mean it. Oh, by the way, you were right about David only wanting me for some other reason than love. I was - stupid - not to see it right away. You were always very keen. David's gay, by the way. I broke off the engagement, but you don't need to know that." I glanced at Blaise who was glaring at me while possessively clutching Harry's body to hers.  
  
"Come on, Harry," she said seductively, her mouth teasing his ear. "She's leaving anyway. We can continue and I promise I'll make you forget about this little...interruption."  
  
"Right," I exclaimed a little too loudly. "Really sorry about this again," I mumbled, turning my back as Blaise began to tease Harry's neck.  
  
"Hermione...oh God!" I heard him cry. I could tell Blaise was doing a good job.  
  
Ron was ready to charge into the room and beat Harry to a bloody pulp, only waiting for my consent. I tiptoed to kiss him on the cheek. Ron had grown so tall...  
  
"I think he's gotten over me," I whispered in his ear. I pulled away, smiling.  
  
"Hermione..." Ron whispered back, holding my hand.  
  
"Tell them I'm sorry again for interrupting will you?" and with that I Disapparated and reappeared in my room.  
  
And for the first time, no tears fell. 


	13. Can't Cry Hard Enough

A/N: This chapter is in Mr. Granger's point of view, although not in his person. This is also one of the last chapters - that's right, the story is about to end and I've had such a great time writing this. But don't worry, this isn't the last chappie yet. Some shout-outs before I begin again...  
  
Godspeed: Thank you for your reviews. They warm my heart. Just so you know, I'm *seriously* considering your suggestion of making Harry cry. You'll just have to wait and see.  
  
mystical: I'm so glad you liked that last line. I thought it might sound a bit corny because the chapter title's the same, but it's so symbolic, isn't it? :)  
  
Adam Johnson: I'm trying to make this fic have a movie-slash-soap opera feel to it. Thank you for feeling frustrated - I was expecting it. It means that you're really into my story and I appreciate that.  
  
And onward we go...  
  
DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter characters.  
  
CHAPTER 12:  
  
Mr. Granger knocked lightly on his daughter's door, waiting for a sign that will allow him to come in. She had come home early that morning; he had heard her move from her room to the bathroom and back again and there was a sadness to her movements. A sadness that he just couldn't place.  
  
At first he thought that it was the pain of losing David to another man. That alone was enough to make any woman go crazy. She refused to eat anything at breakfast and luncheon, but her mum persuaded her to sip some soup in the late afternoon.  
  
He was worried for his daughter. She seemed so vulnerable and helpless in this state, staying in her bed, refusing to eat or talk to anyone. He was oh-so-very tempted to strangle David for what he did to his daughter - the bastard. Leading Hermione on like that! Intending to marry her but to continue having an affair with his gay lover! Hermione deserved so much more than him.  
  
She hasn't even cried either. Her eyes were dry but framed with dark circles, as if she had actually cried all evening. Her back faced the door and she was clutching her sheets tight around her body, as if she was protecting herself from something. It scared him that Hermione seemed to be in so much pain, but wasn't letting it out. It seemed as if she was allowing herself to be consumed away inwardly by her suffering.  
  
He pressed his ear to the door and heard nothing, just the vague evenness of her breathing. Taking at as a good sign, he opened her door slightly and peeked in. He found her on her back, still surrounded by the sheets, but she was staring blankly at the ceiling - her face looked almost cryptic.  
  
/At least she's on her back now,/ he thought, putting a small smile on his lips. "How are you feeling, sweetheart?" he asked softly, making a move to sit on the edge of her bed. She looked so vacant, staring into nothingness that he felt his anger boil in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to hurt David so badly for taking away his daughter - his bright and beautiful Hermione - and replaced her with this shell who neither spoke nor cried.  
  
He sat just beside her, brushing away strands of her chestnut brown hair that had fallen across her face. "Don't worry, you'll get over David. He doesn't even deserve someone like you. And you deserve someone better than that." Mr. Granger smiled down at her. Hermione turned her head slightly to the other side, facing away from her father and looking at the wall.  
  
Hermione's walls have always been adorned with frames and photographs. She loved photographs, even moreso when she found out that pictures taken in the wizarding world can move around as they please. There were frames everywhere - certificates of academic excellence, medals, her recently- erected college diploma, pictures of her receiving her diploma from the dean of academics, photographs of her, Harry and Ron at the Burrow in past summers, their first picture together, taken at Hogwarts when they were all young and smiling and happy...  
  
Mr. Granger saw her eyes pause at that particular photograph. And that's when he knew who it was that truly hurt her like this - Harry.  
  
She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip shakily as past memories haunted her mind. Memories that she knew now were all lies. *This* was exactly where they had left off four years ago, only she wasn't running away anymore. But Harry was doing the exact same thing he had done before, he was with another woman. Never mind that this time around he knew what Hermione felt for him (courtesy of her last letter to him, of course), he'd never acted on it. And even if he did love her, what she saw this morning at the flat proved that, clearly, he was over her. Before she even knew he had begun.  
  
And the sad thing was - her heart still ached for him. Reason told her that she should forget Harry. He had already told her that he thought she was a slut and got back at her even more when he had sex with Blaise in his room. Yet, she refused to listen to her mind. Her heart was aching for him, to be touched by him, to be told that he still loved her even if he didn't...  
  
She can't even cry for him anymore. Over the last several years, she has cried for him for too many times, all to no avail. She was still in this rut, she was still alone.  
  
"Am I that undesirable, Dad?" Hermione began in a shaky whisper. Mr. Granger lifted his hand to smooth his daughter's cheek. "Am I really so unattractive that the man I was supposed to marry is only marrying me to preserve people's regard for him and the only man I've ever loved..." she paused, opened her eyes and settled them on Harry's image. "...can never love me back?"  
  
"Oh, sweetheart," Mr. Granger said, his voice thick with emotion. "Of course you're not unattractive. You're very, very beautiful and smart and funny and witty - any guy would be lucky to end up with you."  
  
"If I really am then I shouldn't be alone now, should I?," she countered, drawing her eyes away from Harry. "Perhaps I'm just one of those people who are just not meant to be loved in that way, you know. Maybe I'm destined to end up alone, doomed to spend the rest of my life watching all my friends get married and live wonderfully happy, fulfilling lives."  
  
"Don't say that, honey. You deserve to be loved and cherished and adored for all your life..."  
  
"I deserve to be, but I might as well be pre-ordained to live life alone. I've only had two relationships in the whole of my twenty-one years on this earth - two! And David was the only one who asked me to marry him - for any reason - while the other didn't really even count as a relationship." She sighed so deeply that Mr. Granger could swear she was trying to release all breath from within her. "Maybe I should just marry David anyway. I mean, if I'm going to live my life alone, I might as well have a marriage certificate to show for it. It'll almost be like the same thing."  
  
"Hermione," Mr. Granger's voice was sharp and shaky. "You stop saying that. Your mum and I love you. I love you very much, sweetie. You don't need to be alone."  
  
"Oh, Dad, you don't understand," she said, turning her head to face him. "I am alone. No matter how much you tell me that I'll never be alone because I have you and Mum, it's not the same. You and Mum will always have each other to love, to cherish, to adore...I want some of that, too. I want someone who'll give me chocolates and roses on Valentine's Day. I want someone who'll take me out to a romantic, candlelit dinner during our anniversary. I want someone who'll plan out the perfect marriage proposal and go crazy when things don't go as planned. I want moonlight and dancing and horse-drawn carriages. I want to be ravaged by passion and heat and love and ecstasy and joy. I want someone who'll look at me lovingly with those beautiful green eyes and tell me that everything's going to be okay, because he'll make it right..." Hermione faced away from him again, stopping herself before she said any more.  
  
Mr. Granger winced at his daughter's confession. She wanted Harry, that much was obvious. But he'd obviously done something that made her believe that he didn't want to be with her. And he wanted to know what he had done to make her act this way, but was too afraid to press Hermione.  
  
"I was stupid enough to think that Harry could actually love me anyway," she murmured, her eyes back on his image on the wall. "I mean, *me*? Why would he want someone like me?" Her smile was painful to see and Mr. Granger wished that she would just frown and cry, rather than pretend to be consoling herself.  
  
"Why wouldn't he?" he asked her, squeezing her hand. "You're the most perfect creature on this planet and he's got to be daft not to notice you."  
  
"Oh, no, Harry's far from being daft. His tastes just don't go in the way of bookwormish, frizzy-haired, dull-eyed girls like me."  
  
"You should've seen this other girl, Dad," she added, facing him again, the painful smile still on her face as she told the story. "She was so beautiful and slender and her hair was so...straight and her face was perfect. Harry likes those kinds of girls, I mean, it's only natural that he end up with someone like her. Harry's perfect, he doesn't need someone like me cramping his style, does he?"  
  
Mr. Granger said nothing and Hermione went on. "And she was making him yell very loudly, I'm not ashamed to admit it. She knows exactly what to do and how to make him happy - what could I bring into a relationship? If we were together..." She stopped, clearly contemplating the idea of herself and Harry. "If we were together, I'd just be a burden to him. I mean, Harry's so experienced in these things. I wouldn't be able to satisfy him in the way he deserves to be satisfied.  
  
So, it's better this way," she finished.  
  
"Hermione..."  
  
She smiled that painful smile again and patted her father's hand so softly, he hardly felt it. "It *is* better this way, Dad. I was just stupid to believe that, after all this time, Harry could ever fall in love with someone like me."  
  
"How could you say that?" Mr. Granger said softly. "You are not stupid, why wouldn't someone like Harry want you? If you ask me, he's the one who's stupid enough to let you slip away. You are the most amazing, most wonderful, most beautiful woman in the world, Hermione. And if he can't see that, then, he doesn't deserve you."  
  
"Perhaps," she whispered, as a single tear coursed down her cheek. The first sign of her pain. "I was never meant to deserve *him*." 


	14. I'm Gonna Make You Love Me

A/N: I just had an epiphany...you should really try drinking coffee late in the afternoon, like, around 5-6pm. For college students like me, I guarantee you at least 9 hours of hyperactivity. You won't even yawn. I had stayed up till 3am working on this chapter because I suddenly had so many ideas and I still wasn't the least bit sleepy. I really recommend drinking Nescafé (with good reason) if you're an insomniac-slash-depressive like me. Anyway...  
  
CHAPTER 13:  
  
"I could hit you right now, Harry," Ron muttered darkly, clenching his fists at his sides and standing rigidly as Harry got to his feet. He had his sheets wrapped around his lower body as he walked over to face his best friend.  
  
"I could beat you to a bloody pulp and feel absolutely no remorse for it, you know I can, don't you?" he continued, his blue eyes darkening to a deep violet color. "And I could do it all without my wand - strangling you with my bare hands would probably be more satisfying than the Killing Curse."  
  
Harry didn't respond, but stood as rigid as Ron was. If Ron were to raise his wand right now and yell, "Avada Kedavra!" he knew he deserved it. He had let himself be overcome by a moment of weakness that he knew would cost him dearly.  
  
*Flashback*  
  
/Nothing happened between them.../ Harry's mind kept repeating. /David's gay.../  
  
/She broke off her engagement.../  
  
/You also accused her of being a slut./  
  
He didn't mean to say it. Certainly not to her face, but he couldn't help himself. He had to lash out at her for making him feel terrible. For making his heart ache for her so much, knowing that sge could never be his. It seemed like the perfect revenge at the time. After all, should he be the onle one to suffer?  
  
But her utter sadness, confusion and anger as she whispered, "I'm not a slut," tore right through his hatred. She sounded genuinely hurt by what he had said - but wasn't that the goal? To hurt her as much as she had hurt him?  
  
When she slapped him, Harry felt his anger ebb despite himself. And when she ran off, telling him to stay out of her life, his mind spinned with blurred thoughts and echoes of her voice. He knew he had just made a terrible mistake, but he stayed rooted to to his spot at the Pitch, finding himself unable to follow her or to even move or breathe properly - at least, until the previously out-of-sight Bludgers reappeared again and hit his back simultaneously.  
  
***  
  
"Where am I?" he mumbled, gingerly opening his eyes and taking in his surroundings. He tried to sit up but his back felt so bruised and on fire that he lay back down again.  
  
"Don't try to move," a female voice said sweetly, placing a damp towel on his forehead. "You've been out for quite a while so it's natural you'll still be feeling a little sore."  
  
"Blaise?" he wondered aloud as his brain registered the seductive, dark- haired siren's sultry figure leaning over his bare chest. "Wha -? Where -?"  
  
"You're in your room, Harry. I had to cast a spell on you before I airlifted you onto my broom so I could take you home." She began moving the towel along his neck, then to his chest, the dampness feeling so good on his hot body. "I found you lying face-down on the Pitch as I was doing my evening rounds. You must've been that way for quite a while. You had ants crawling all over your robes, I was afraid you might be dead. Be grateful that it's me who found you and not a deranged Potter-fan or you wouldn't be here with me."  
  
"I - I don't know what to say. Thank you, Blaise," he replied warmly, not noticing (yet) that the damp towel was making its way to a lower destination.  
  
Blaise's violet-blue eyes was drawing him in. "You look so - troubled, Harry."  
  
"Do I?" She nodded, concern apparent in her eyes.  
  
"Well," Harry sighed, recalling the day's events before the twin Bludgers knocked him out. "I just had a fight with Hermione..."  
  
"Granger?" Blaise asked in surprise. " I didn't know she was back."  
  
"Yes, she is. Just last week. She and I - we had a fight today. It's more my fault really..."  
  
"How can it?" she murmured seductively, her fingers snapping off the button on his trousers as he looked on with bated breath.  
  
"Blaise..."  
  
"Just keep telling me what happened, Harry," she purred, sliding a finger down his fly to unzip him, causing her to brush against his manhood. "How can it be your fault?"  
  
"Well, uh, I said some things that I, uh, I didn't really mean," he gasped when Blaise pulled his trousers off. "And she, well, she, um, got mad and slapped me. Blaise, wait..."  
  
"Oh, you poor dear," she purred, caressing his cheek. "Did she hurt you? Why don't I kiss you to make it all better?" She leaned over and planted a wet kiss on the spot she just touched. "Does that make you feel better?" she asked, placing a finger on one of the buttons of her cardigan. In one expert move, she unfastened one button.  
  
"Yeah - " he whispered, watching intently as she plucked another button off its fastener, revealing a delicious valley between her well-endowed breasts.  
  
"Perhaps you're feeling a bit constrained," she suggested, her other fingers sliding their way under the waistband of his boxers. "Would it help if I pulled this away?" And without waiting for an answer, Blaise had removed Harry's underthings and tossed them carelessly onto the floor.  
  
"Blaise..." he moaned, wanting to rip her cardigan open so he could revel in her breasts. But Hermione...  
  
/What about Hermione?/ the angry side of his brain taunted him. /She said she didn't want to speak to you anymore. She told you to stay out of her life./  
  
/I can't,/ the rational part of his brain countered. /I can't let it end like that. I love her./  
  
/Love? What's love, Harry? A ring, a piece of parchment, a nagging wife and a screaming brat to tie you down. There's a beautiful and sexy woman waiting for you to ravage her, Harry. And there's more where she came from.. You're *the* Harry Potter - if Hermione doesn't want you, then it's he loss. Besides, can Hermione do that?/ His attention shifted back to Blaise who was invariably doing a striptease right on top of him.  
  
/Hermione is so sweet and innocent,/ Harry thought. /I can't even imagine her doing that./  
  
/That's right,/ his brain piped up again. /Savor this moment, Harry, and forget about her. Let her wallow in her self-pity. She's got David anyway./  
  
That sealed the deal. Pushing all thoughts of Hermione to the back of his mind, Harry concentrated on the thrills of pleasure Blaise elicited in him as she teased him with her tongue and hands.  
  
He felt her contract heavily as she met him, shifting slightly and gasping audibly as she accommodated his entire length inside her wet warmth. He knew he was a little too big and a tad bit too long for her to handle but Blaise just kept on working him, enjoying the pain of being completely filled by him as she slid against his hard length.  
  
He *was* a bit too big than she'd ever care to admit but consoled herself with the the intense image of him slamming into her forcefully as she gripped his broad shoulders and yelled out his name in pure pleasure. She had wanted Harry ever since Hogwarts. Malfoy had provided her with enough compensation when she was feeling particularly frustrated, but imagined him to be Harry driving into her with so much force it nearly killed her - much to Malfoy's disdain at being thought of as a Harry-substitute. She'd always hated Hermione Granger, Harry's shadow and ultimately the love of his life. They didn't realize it yet but Blaise was very aware of the unsaid tension between them. It was too much for her not to notice, and Blaise prided herself in being very keen. So when Hermione left, she could grab her chance to lure him away. Tonight was her night.  
  
But she had felt someone watching them, the hairs at the back of her neck prickling, and she turned around quickly when a vaguely familiar voice from their Hogwarts years called out, "Ron -!"  
  
Harry had wondered why Blaise stopped her ministrations, as his eyes followed her gaze. Then he saw her - and the look of complete horror and pain etched on her face. The same look he had seen when she saw him kiss Diana by the lake four years ago. And it hurt him to recall that she had run away from him last time.  
  
"Hermione, please. It's not what you think," he pleaded, trying to sit up against Blaise and his sore back. Sexual frustration bedamned! It's Hermione he wants!  
  
She was obviously disgusted to see him in such a position and Harry wished fervently that a Time-Turner would drop out from the sky and into his hands. But Hermione backed away, all the while stammering apologies and explanations as he tried to get Blaise off of him. Fragments of what she was saying entered his brain, the important ones that he's waited so long to hear...  
  
"David's gay, by the way. I broke off our engagement, but you didn't need to know that..."  
  
But he did need to know that, and was glad she told him. That meant that he still had a chance to show her how much he loves her. If only he could just explain his way out of this particular mess...  
  
"Hermione...oh god!" he cried out as he tried to straighten his back too quickly, realizing a little too late that it wasn't at all what she needed to hear.  
  
But she was already gone when he had pried Blaise off him, leaving only an open-mouthed Ron glaring at him by the door.  
  
*End of Flashback*  
  
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you with my bare hands right now," Ron said darkly, his gaze never leaving Harry's.  
  
He looked straight back at his best friend, bracing himself for a blow to the head - or worse, somewhere lower.  
  
"I love Hermione."  
  
Ron's eyes danced furiously for a moment, then considerably lightened to a dark, midnight color. He sighed defeatedly, clenching his hands so tightly his knuckles were turning white. "Damn it, Harry!" he cried in frustration. "Why do you insist on hurting her?"  
  
"I didn't mean for her to see me tonight..." he bagen, but Ron shoved him aside.  
  
"Don't you dare make it seem like it's her fault that she saw you with that...that...Slytherin! Don't you even try because I swear, Harry, I *will* strangle you."  
  
"I'm sorry," Harry mumbled, looking away. "That thing - with Blaise - it's a mistake. I didn't mean for it to happen, and I certainly didn't mean for it to turn out the way it did. It just happened because I was stupid and angry and confused. I was angry at myself because I had hurt Hermione, but I was also angry at her because she's getting married - well, not now. Blaise provided me with what I needed at the right moment. My ego was feeling very battered because she had chosen David over me - because, in my heart, I always believed that I was the only man in her life, besides you, of course. She's...she's the only woman I ever wanted this badly and she didn't seem to want me. But here was someone who..." Harry sighed. "Blaise isn't the issue here anymore. It's me. I'm a daft prick."  
  
"Damn right you are," Ron exclaimed. "How could you even think that she could even try to seduce other men? She may not be as beautiful or as gorgeous as those other girls you used to date, Harry but she's not desperate. She's very beautiful and attractive and smart and funny and loyal - how many women can you say that about? Did you know she tried to charm her hair once so it'll be just like Cho's because that's what she thought *you* wanted? She'd do absolutely anything for you, even pretend to be happy just as long as you're happy - even if it means not being with you. And she does that because she love you. She LOVES you! And you...you're a daft prick." Ron settled on the couch after this, exhausted and spent, his breathing erratic, but thankful because he finally had his say. Harry sat beside hi, only to bury his face in his hands and mumble incoherently.  
  
"What?" Ron asked, looking over at him.  
  
"I said, I really screwed up, didn't I?"  
  
"Yeah, you did." Silence.  
  
"Do you reckon there's a chance for her to take me back?"  
  
Ron shook his head. "I don't know. But I'm just afraid that she might leave us for good this time, and she might not even owl me anymore."  
  
"She can't leave!" Harry cried, sitting up. "She can't...I haven't..."  
  
"She left you once, Harrym without as much as a goodbye. What makes you think she'll stay for this one?"  
  
"She has to. I'll make her stay. I could Apparate in her room and try to reason with her. I could ask Mrs. Granger to let me talk to her..."  
  
"And have her dad kick you out," Ron said. "Face it, Harry, we're both out of it this time. She's successfully avoided you for four years. She might want to put a record on that."  
  
"She can't leave me, Ron," Harry declared, standing up. "Not again. I'll give her everything she wants, everything..."  
  
"She doesn't need anything. She only wants you."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Honesty's always the best policy, they say. Do you know what you're going to do?" Ron asked after him, as he made his way to his room.  
  
"Not yet. But if I'm going to make Hermione love me again, then I'd have to something drastic fast...and soon." 


	15. As If We Never Said Goodbye

A/N: I've been getting a lot of wonderful reviewer-ideas left and right, and I'm so torn between all of them. Do I kill off one of them just when they've decided to forgive each other? Do I make Hermione run away again before Harry can apologize? Do I let her end up with Ron, the best friend who had ALWAYS been there for her? Or do I end my final chapter with a 'happily ever after'?  
  
That's for you to find out - but I've racked my brain to come up with *THE* most heart-touching, "awww..." ending I can come up with so you guys will always remember me and have my fic in your hearts for the next several days...or weeks...or months...or years... :)  
  
Please don't skip the A/N at the bottom.  
  
CHAPTER 14:  
  
I had made up my mind before I closed my eyes to let sleep come take me away. I have had enough of this. I had been home for less than two weeks and already I felt so wasted, so tired, so...hopeless, not to mention alone. My little 'talk' with Dad was a revelation. Harry could never love me in the same way that I loved him - in that go-out-of-your-mind, crazy, passionate, hurting way. I mean, why would he want me when he could have someone so exquisitely beautiful and amazing like Blaise...or Lavender...or Diana...or all those other women he's been with?  
  
It's like saying you're choosing Jack Black to Brad Pitt.  
  
There's only so much rejection a girl could take, and I have reached my breaking point. Tomorrow, I will start a new life. I've thought about moving somewhere in France - Paris or Provence, maybe. It really doesn't matter where. I fell in love with France when I visited it once before, during the summer before our third year. I think I first realized my more- than-friendly feelings for Harry there. Perhaps I could also lose it there.  
  
I turned around in my bed, my back facing the wall, as I stared at the photographs on my wall. I'll also have to start hiding those pictures of Harry, too. Just seeing him so happy and handsome in a photograph made my heart ache and my eyes well up with tears.  
  
A photograph. It will probably be the closest I'll ever be to him.  
  
I can't be his best friend anymore. I just can't. I'm tired of this pretending that I'm fine whenever he's around when all I can think about is the feel of his lips on mine, the heat of his hands on my body...  
  
But more than that, I'm tired of waiting to hear the words I know he'll never get around to saying.  
  
Not to me anyway.  
  
I closed my eyes to prevent my tears from falling. I've cried for him too much already.  
  
Harry - the only man I've ever cried over. We've had our happier moments, of course. Summers spent at the Burrow or at Diagon Alley were one of the happiest of my life, spent with two of my very best friends in the whole wide world. But somewhere along the road, Harry had ceased becoming just my best friend. And I had stopped being his once I admitted to myself that I wanted more - so much more - from him. How platonic can a friendship be if you found yourself wanting your best friend in a way best friends are never supposed to want each other?  
  
But it's over - this thing with Harry, before it ever really began. I have to stop it before he hurts me again. I've already had more than my fair share of pain and I certainly don't want to cry again.  
  
/Tomorrow.../ I thought, closing my eyes, awaiting a deep and restless sleep to enfold me.  
  
/Tomorrow, I forget about Harry. Tomorrow, I'll stop loving Harry.../  
  
/I have to.../  
  
~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
I could hear him, hear Harry calling me in my dreams. He was calling my name but he was so far way...  
  
*Please, Harry, don't do this. I don't want to do this anymore. Leave me alone.*  
  
His face swam in my mind as he continued to call my name.  
  
*Please, leave me alone, Harry. I don't want to cry anymore, I'm tired...so tired...*  
  
But he didn't leave and I felt myself shudder visibly. I was shaking.  
  
Or being shook.  
  
I opened my eyes to find Mum sitting right beside me, shaking me awake. Dad stood in the doorway, his dark terry robes wrapped around him. His eyes were tired, but smiling and there was a peculiar glint in his eyes as he looked at me.  
  
"He's been down there for several minutes already, the neighbors are starting to yell at him," Mum was telling me as I shook off my drowsiness. Dad nodded his head toward my window and that's when I heard it.  
  
"HERMIONE!" Harry's voice yelled from the street. "HERMIONE! I NEED TO TALK TO YOU!"  
  
"What is he *doing*?" I asked incredulously, sitting up on my bed, turned in the direction of my window. "How long has he been out there?"  
  
Dad walked over to me, his hands in his robes' pockets. "A good couple of minutes. Ron's down there with him."  
  
"Then why isn't he stopping Harry?"  
  
"I don't think Harry wants to be stopped," Dad replied so evenly, it surprised me.  
  
"HERMIONE!" Harry was yelling once again. "HERMIONE!"  
  
"Sod off!" a neighbor yelled back. "It's 2 in the morning! Let the people get some sleep!"  
  
But Harry was persistent. "HERMIONE!"  
  
"That's it!" I heard Mrs. Martin, our neighbor from across the road, threaten. "I'm calling the police!"  
  
"Oh my God!" I exclaimed. I didn't want to see Harry, but I couldn't let him be taken by the cops as well. I got to my feet, fumbled around for my robe before opening my window.  
  
"HERMIONE!"  
  
I raised my window, pushing aside my curtains, and stuck my head in the drafty morning air. I spotted Ron, sitting on the sidewalk, his head resting on his hands, smiling broadly. For some weird reason, I wanted to hit him.  
  
Harry was standing in the middle of the street, wearing black trousers and a creased, button-down shirt that he didn't tuck inside his trousers. He looked as if he had gone out in a hurry, his hair more disheveled than usual, his glasses askew - but his face, his face was brighter.  
  
"Harry!" I hissed, pulling my robe around me to keep the chill away. "What do you think you're doing?"  
  
He stopped just as he was bracing himself for another impressive yell. He looked at me, those beautiful green eyes shining in the fading moonlight. He took a deep breath. "Look at her, Ron," he said, his eyes not leaving mine. "Have you ever seen anyone more beautiful?"  
  
I felt my heart jump to my throat. He's never said anything like that to me before. But I'm far from getting my hopes up again.  
  
"Thank you," I whispered. I blinked several times before continuing. "What are you doing here?" I repeated.  
  
He stepped forward, stopping just beyond the gate. "I wanted to...explain. About last night."  
  
I could feel the tears beginning to build up within me. "You don't have to explain anything to me, Harry..."  
  
"Please, let me finish. You have to hear what I have to say because if you don't then..." he paused, finding himself unable to continue what he was about to say. "Last night - last night, I made the biggest mistake of my life.  
  
I allowed myself to be swept away by the temptation of another woman because I was weak. I admit it, Hermione, I was attracted to her and she drove me to heights I never imagined I could go. But she had one flaw -"  
  
Blaise had a flaw? If someone as perfect as she was could have a flaw, what more could I have to offer him?  
  
"She wasn't you."  
  
I stared blankly at him, refusing to register what he had just announced to my whole block. "I'm in love with you, Hermione Granger. I love everything about you. I love the way you walk and the way you talk. I think your voice is the most beautiful in the world and I could hear you speak every day of my life. I love the way your hair shines when the sun hits it, I love it even more when the moon comes up and it frames your beautiful face so perfectly that I just want to reach out and kiss you. I love the way your nose wrinkles a little when you laugh. In fact, I love your nose. I've wanted to kiss the tip of your nose for the last four years. I love the way you carry yourself when you enter a room. I love the way you dress and worry if the dress doesn't fit you or not." Harry smiled. "I love the way you bite your lower lip when you're nervous or scared. I love the way you read so intently, like you're trying to discover something new when you read 'Hogwarts: A History' for the nine hundredth time. I love the way I could just drown in your eyes everytime I see you look at me. I love the way you're just so generous and helpful and ready to give until it hurts. I love the way you smile, as if everything is all right in the world..."  
  
"Harry..." I began, but my voice only came out in a barely audible whisper.  
  
"I love you, Hermione," Harry said. "And if you love me, too, I promise to always be faithful to you. If you love me, I promise I'll hold you close everyday before we go off to work and hold you even closer when I see you again at the end of the day.  
  
If you love me, I promise to be the first one you see when you wake up in the morning and the last one you'll see before your eyes close and I'm holding your hand as you go to sleep. If you love me, I promise I'll always side with you whenever you and Ron will argue and I'll make sure you always win. If you love me, I'll argue with Ron for you! I don't mind.  
  
If you love me, I promise to build you a home where we can raise our children who will all be as beautiful and as intelligent as their mum. I even promise to let your Mum and Dad live with us if they want, so they can spend their days with their grandchildren. If you love me, I promise to show you everyday how beautiful you really are and kiss you with renewed passion. If you love me, I promise to give you my heart, my soul, my mind - my everything. If you love me, I swear never to hurt you or make you cry again.  
  
And I'll do this even if you don't love me - because I love you."  
  
He turned around to face the block, his arms raised in triumph. "Did everybody hear that? I LOVE YOU, HERMIONE GRANGER! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE..."  
  
Harry stopped, once more facing the window and his face fell when he saw the I wasn't there.  
  
But I had run downstairs to open the front door. "Ron, Harry, come in," I called. "Come on in, I think Mrs. Martin's already called the police."  
  
Ron gratefully sprinted past Harry and the front door. Harry remained standing beyond the gate, his piercing green eyes looking at me with an intensity that warded off more of the morning chill than a robe ever could.  
  
"Did you hear what I said, Hermione?" he asked, suddenly shy.  
  
I walked towards him, pulling my robe closer, although I wasn't as cold as I was before. "I heard you the first time you said it. And the next time, and the time after that."  
  
He grinned and I stopped on the other side of the gate. "I just wanted to make sure you heard me right, so there won't be any confusion."  
  
"You'd really argue with Ron for me?" I joked, returning his smile.  
  
"Yeah, I would." He sighed, then he reached out and caressed my cheek. I wanted so much to rest my face in his warm hands, to feel him cup my face and pull me in for a kiss, but I was still scared. And Harry could sense it.  
  
"What's wrong? Don't you believe me?"  
  
I shook my head. "I don't know, Harry. I'm scared - I don't know what to think or feel. I want to believe you so much but I can't help thinking..." I took a deep breath, touching my hand to his. "You're still Harry Potter, I can never change who you are. Women will still throw themselves at you, Harry - women who are so much more beautiful and prettier and sexier and more of everything than I can ever be. Sometimes I wish you weren't who you are, or you weren't as handsome as you are because then I'd have you all to myself. But you can't change what you are now and it scares me to think that, even if you tell me now that you won't hurt me, you might...and I can't handle it if you're playing around or you're still a bit unsure of how you feel about me."  
  
He placed a finger under my chin and lifted my head to meet his. "Will this convince you?" he whispered as he leaned toward me, his lips touching mine in the gentlest of kisses.  
  
Magic.  
  
And not the magic that we learned at Hogwarts. It was that indescribable brand of magic that made your whole world go into slow motion with strains of 'Goodnight, My Someone' playing in the air.  
  
And I kissed him back with everything I felt. I opened my mouth to welcome him inside and his tongue searched mine hungrily. He tasted sweet, like I always imagined him to taste like. His arms went around my waist, pulling me closer to him but the gate obstructed our closeness and the cold metal bit into my skin that it jogged my mind back to functioning. I laid a hand on Harry's chest and gently pushed him away.  
  
We both pulled away. I was breathless and when I opened my eyes, Harry still had his closed. He had a smile on his face and he licked his lips before opening his eyes. His arms were still around me, not allowing me to move from his embrace.  
  
"I've been wanting to do that for four years," he murmured, planting a kiss on my forehead. Just his slightest touch was magic. "I've played it so many times in my head, but finally doing it is a million times better."  
  
"So you did think of me after I left?" I teased him, remembering my parting words to him in my farewell letter.  
  
Harry smiled and kissed me again before answering. "I couldn't think of anything else. You've got me tied to the noose and I haven't even asked you to marry me yet."  
  
I jumped at the word and he took it as a good sign. "Would you say yes if I asked you to marry me?"  
  
"Why? Are you asking?"  
  
"I might be," he led on.  
  
"I might say yes. I really don't know yet," I teased.  
  
"But you do love me, too, right?"  
  
I cocked my head to the side. "What do you think?"  
  
"I think you do."  
  
"You sound so sure of yourself, Mr. Potter."  
  
"You're the only thing I'm sure of, Hermione - today and for the rest of our lives," he whispered before leaning down to kiss me again.  
  
And when I kissed him back, I kissed him with all the love I felt, from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. Harry loves me. *Me*! Brilliant and beautiful (at least, that's what Harry said) Hermione Granger. And Harry made me feel beautiful.  
  
"I love you, Harry."  
  
"I love you back."  
  
***************  
  
A/N: Epilogue and VERY IMPORTANT author's note still ahead! 


	16. Epilogue

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter characters.  
  
A/N: This chapter would be much better if you listen to it along with Stephen Speaks' "Passenger Seat." :)  
  
EPILOGUE  
  
"Harry, I don't like surprises," I warned him, fumbling my way in complete darkness.  
  
"This one you'll like, I guarantee it," he replied, his hands covering my eyes.  
  
"May I remind you the last time someone gave me a surprise, he turned out to be gay?"  
  
Harry laughed low in his throat. I once told him that I liked the way he laughed and he did it more often. "I am eternally grateful to David for being gay. If he weren't then I wouldn't be the luckiest and happiest man in the world."  
  
I smiled at his statement. It's been two weeks since he declared his love for me (to an entire Muggle street at 2 in the morning, no less) and he's hardly away from me ever since. He and Ron were always at my house for dinner as Mum loved cooking for 'her boys' as she calls them. To tell the truth, she's been as fussy and as motherly as Mrs. Weasley, making them get second and third helpings of everything. Dad and Harry are like best friends now. Dad makes it a point to call him 'Son' and Harry revels in it, never having a real father figure before. But it's not like Harry's popped the big question yet.  
  
We stopped somewhere and I groped for Harry's hands. "Where are we?"  
  
"You'll see soon enough," Harry said. I could feel the smile in his voice when he answered me and my heart began to beat rapidly.  
  
"You know I love you, don't you?" he whispered in my ear, kissing the base of my neck.  
  
"You know, questions like those are the reason why I don't like surprises very much," I answered, feeling cold seep through me.  
  
"You have to learn how to trust me, Hermione."  
  
"I do trust you, Harry. If I didn't I wouldn't be here with you now, would I?"  
  
"Ready for your surprise?"  
  
"No, but do I have a choice?" Harry laughed and he removed his hands from my eyes.  
  
It took a little while before the blur went away but as I focused my eyes I gasped at the sight before me. Harry had taken me to the Cannons' Pitch and we were surrounded by a million tiny lights - fireflies or very, very small candles, I couldn't tell but I felt like I was in the middle of a fairy tale. In the middle of the lights was a floating parchment, tied with a white silk ribbon. I walked toward it and pulled at the ribbon. Once free, the parchment unrolled itself and revealed two words: Say yes.  
  
At the next moment, Harry appeared again beside me and had knelt on the grass. From the pocket of his robes, he pulled out a familiar velvet box and it was all I could do to keep myself from crying.  
  
"Hermione," he said softly, opening the box and revealing the Ring of True Love - the ring we had bought together in Hogsmeade four years ago. "I believe this is yours."  
  
Tears fell down my face as Harry slipped the ring on my finger and kissed my hand. "I once gave it to the wrong girl because I was blind not to see the woman of my dreams right beside me. But I'm not wrong now. You're the woman of my dreams, Hermione Granger. The woman I want to spend the rest of my life growing old with." He paused as he looked up at me and smiled. "Will you marry me?"  
  
I smiled, my tears falling freely now. "Do you even have to ask? Yes, YES! I do! And it would be my honor to spend the rest of my life with you."  
  
Harry got to his feet and enveloped me in his arms. "Could I just hold you for the rest of my life?" he asked, burying his face in my hair.  
  
"You already are." 


	17. Author's Note

A/N: That was the final chapter, guys. I've finally laid my baby to rest and I must admit I was trying to delay this moment. I didn't want to end this - not yet but that's the way it goes. Now I know how J.K. Rowling will feel when she finally finishes her series. Emotional, but with a sense of satisfaction. I hope you liked the last two chapters. Yes, despite the fact that I've made you cry (even a little) because of all the twists and turns in my story I do believe in happy endings. And this is as happy and as romantic as I can get. Ahh...life.  
  
I've enjoyed every moment of this fic - from writing and updating to reading all your reviews, especially those who have kept tabs on it since "Do You Think About Me?" I thank you with all my heart. I'll be writing other fics, though but I'm a little afraid that I might not do anything better than this. After all, there's only so much Harry & Hermione stories I can do without sounding so redundant. And you'd be bored because you're already familiar with my style of writing. But I'm trying to think up of some more situations for them though. I might (notice the emphasis on *might*) go for a Draco fic or a Ron fic - but not a Ron-Hermione one, mind you. Maybe a Ron and me fic? Hahaha...keep dreaming, D.O.!  
  
Anyway, I also wanted to ask you guys if you could include in, hopefully not your last, reviews, the city/country you're from. I've just been granted by my university an opportunity to travel the world for a photo essay I'm including in my thesis, which I proudly call, "Girl." It's a culture profile of girls/women all over the world - similarities, differences, language, ways of dressing, cultural norms, demands of society, etc. Mind you, it's a photo essay so I'll probably be lugging around a manual-SLR camera, several flash bulbs, a heck of a lot of black- and-white film and tubs of developing chemicals around the United States, the Euro Union and India. I really wished I could go to Afghanistan because I'd love to interview the women there, but with what's happening today and everything, you know...  
  
So if I find myself in your city/country and I might be in desperate need for a tour guide, I just might log onto ff.net and say "Hey, I'm here at...Wow, it's really cool here, but I think I'm lost..." that sort of thing. If you're French, Indian, Italian, Spanish, from NYC or Michigan, you're welcome to take part in my brilliant thesis (ahem! Ahem! Cough, cough...). Bring your gal pals! I'll waste loads of film on you. :)  
  
Anyway, I'll be leaving in the fall - still have to finish this year before I leave. I really would like to meet my reviewers face-to-face someday. Just your general city, though. I don't think your mum would fancy a strange girl showing up on her front door saying, "Hello, I'm looking for someone I met on the internet..." I imagine she'd be freaked out and sic the cops on me.  
  
Anyhow, I'm drafting my next fic whose title I am torn between calling it, "We Could Always Pretend" or "If I Could Make You Love Me". My best friend says I should go with the former, but I like the sound of the latter. I'm trying to do a romantic-comedy for fan fiction - complete with soundtrack. FF.net should seriously consider acquiring a multimedia supporter for all those songfics and people like me who dream of attaching music to their stories. That would be fun, wouldn't it?  
  
I'm planning on putting up the first two chapters of my new fic just in time for Valentine's Day - and it'll go on from there. Again - thank you, thank you, THANK YOU ALL for reading and reviewing "As If We Never Said Goodbye." I am eternally indebted to you.  
  
Yours,  
  
D.O. Parker 


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